


A New Order

by LadyBraken



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, It will be worst after, Longburn, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Multi, Multiple Schools, Politics, Rated for reason people, Slytherin Harry, Some Horrible Stuff, War, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11297883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBraken/pseuds/LadyBraken
Summary: Harry Potter isn't quite the golden boy some wants him to be; he discovered his power at a very young age and in unfortunates events, and is much more intelligent than he should be. However, nobody seem to know to whom his loyalty stand for...





	1. Prologue- Of voices and Pain

**A New Order**

Prologue

 

 

Harry was 10 when he heard the voice for the first time.

He was waiting in the living room, his eyes staring at the floor. He knew what was coming. He was used to it.

Monster. They liked to call him that. Freak, Degenerate, Animal. His uncle liked to beat him; Harry knew that. He could see it on his uncle's face, he could read it in his mind. His aunt Petunia just sat and watched, but she never moved or did anything. She was just staring at him with contempt, while her son was laughing and encouraging his father.

Harry had learned to stop screaming. He stopped crying, he never begged, for it would only bring more pain. Uncle Vernon liked to see him hurt, because he was scared and hateful. Harry knew it. And uncle Vernon, through his dull mind, knew that Harry knew as well, in a way. It only enraged him more.

This time, Vernon had chosen a metallic bar to hit his nephew. He didn't have any purpose to it, he was angry, and Harry existed.

But this time, Vernon didn't look like he would stop beating him. Harry heard his bones crack, until he couldn't hold his screams, and started to see black dots in front of his eyes. He was already so fragile, he hadn't eaten anything in the last three days.

He was staring at Petunia. _Help me_ , his eyes said, _for it might be your last chance to help me._

Then the voice came.

_Harry..._

He didn't notice it. He was in pain, like never before. He couldn't concentrate on anything else than the pain of the cold metallic bar breaking his bones into pieces, the screams of his cousin, the blank stare of Petunia until he passed out from the pain.

Harry woke up at the same place he had fainted, in the middle of the Dursley's living room. Everything was dark around him. The clock's ticks were the only sound in the room.

He tried to get up, but he couldn't. He looked at his leg. Broken, obviously. The pain was unbearable, but he didn't scream, nor cry. Doing it would be admitting that they had won, that they had broken him. He wasn't broken. He only needed some bandages, he told himself, and a safe place to rest.

But the pain doesn't stop when you want it to. It isn't that simple. The biggest part of his wounds had already healed. He tried to breathe slowly, focusing on it for a moment.

It was one of the reasons they hated him. He was able to do things. They couldn't understand it, so they wanted it to disappear. He hated them for that. He could forgive the hate, he could forgive the insults, but the pain, even after he had healed himself, the pain stayed.

Harry felt his heart rushing trough his feelings. He couldn't fully understand how he felt. He was sad, terrified, angry, and tired, so tired; and that combination was literally hurting his heart. He pressed his hand against his chest, screaming silently, trying to make it go away. But it wouldn't. Around him, a dark dust was slowly spreading, and everything started shaking.

He looked around, seeking for anything that might help him. This was when he saw them: the knives, waiting patiently, shining coldly under the moonlight illuminating the room.

He felt his heart calm down. Somehow, he finally rose, while staring at the knives.

They were hypnotic. He wasn't thinking anymore. He only took one of them, slowly, enjoying the noise of the blade against the folder. It was a real melody, something cold, calm. A blade's lullaby. The pain in his legs seemed to have moved into some sort of determination, of nothingness. He could feel it, but it was like it was somebody else's. He wasn't even shaking. His body and mind were blank. He only remembered what his cousin said to him, only a few hours earlier, when he saw Harry trying to escape the house silently.

" Nobody would even notice if you died, freak". _If that so_ _,_ he thought, _nobody will never notice if I happen to kill you, my dear_ . They would notice the Dursleys's absence, and in a day or two find the bodies, but who would remember the little pile of rags which used to be somewhere in the corner?

Slowly, he limped into the stairs, one step after the other. His leg was bleeding, and he did his best to ignore the pain, which was slowly returning. It was a living hell. Not that it changed from usual, but for the first time he was acknowledging it.

Somehow, he felt like someone was helping him. He felt like someone was actually trying to cast the pain away. Poor me, he thought, Am I so lonely that I'm making imaginary friends?

He pushed the door to the Dursleys's room. They were here, silently sleeping, peaceful. Disgusting. At this very moment, he knew how superior he was, how scared of him, how tiny, how helpless they were. He knew that he had something more. His shadow grew on their sleeping bodies, and for an instant, he thought it was like death was already over them.

His hand tightened on the knife.

_Do it..._

He moved silently, and stood on the mattress, over his uncle. He will start with him, not only because he was the most dangerous, but because Petunia loved him. And above all people in this world, it was Petunia that he hated the most. He wanted to hurt her.

Suddenly, Vernon opened his eyes. They looked at each other for a second. Harry could see himself, pale, green eyes glowing from the inside, unpleasant smile on his face, the knife shining in his hand.

The hit Vernon sends into Harry's belly made the young boy fly across the room. Fear came back as he crashed on the corridor's floor and felt his ribs cracks. He immediately ran for his "room", the small cupboard under the stairs, half limping, half crawling, his uncle on his heels. In the panic, he had let the knife go.

"COME BACK HERE YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF-", he heard upstairs.

He had to heal, he had to leave. Otherwise, he would die, he knew it. He tried to concentrate, but he was too frightened. He heard his uncle's footstep's on the stairs, he heard his mad thoughts. _I'm going to kill this little brat, he doesn't belong to this world, how dare he raise his filthy hands on me..._ Harry couldn't breathe anymore. Partly because of the concentration he needed to fix his leg, partly because he now had ribs trying to pierce trough his lungs and every movement was painful.

He tried to think of an escape. His neighbours wouldn't help, they never did. They were the same as the Dursleys, more quiet in the hatred, maybe. One of the children looked a bit like himself, he had the same cadaverous features, the sames wounds on his body, but not as often, maybe was he in a better situation, but what could two children could do more than one? He had no family. He couldn't have any friends as he was locked up most part of the year. He couldn't deal with the police, he was seeking freedom, not jail. Unless...

His uncle was drumming at the door, but Harry wanted it closed, so it remained in place. But he couldn't go on like that. He had nowhere to go. His emotions were like a storm in his chest, and he felt like his skull was going to explode, to split in half from the lightning shaped scar he had on the forehead.

" Get out of here! I'm going to fucking kill you!" his uncle shouted at the door.

"No."

The noises stopped as Uncle Vernon stood still under the shock. That was his chance. Harry threw himself through the door and jumped on him. He only needed a single touch.

He put his hand on his uncle's, and looked into his eyes.

Images came to his mind. He saw his uncle meeting Petunia. He saw the birth of Dursley. He saw many things he didn't want to, but he didn't care. Everywhere he passed, he destroyed everything. Memory after memory, neuron after neuron, in an instant uncle Vernon didn't exist anymore. He had become an object. A doll, a big reddish doll.

Harry only noticed Petunia's screams when it was over. The boy violently turned towards her. She was holding her beloved son against her as if her only arms could save him from the boy. In the corridor, of her dull-faced husband, two green orbs were staring at her in the shadows.

It only took an instant for Harry to put her out of his way. When his cousin finally fell on the floor, he sat into the couch. He never had the right to do so before, and the feeling was exquisite, even with the pain that made all his body shiver. He was exhausted, but he was mostly sad. His anger had faded away at the exact moment he knew he had won, and that he had won so easily. Now, he knew it was the only way, and that at one point or another he would have had to come to this. He had no way out, and this situation was the only one he could have ended in.

He watched the bodies of his family laying on the floor, slowly breathing as he felt asleep, and for the first time in his life he wasn't afraid to wake up.

He woke up at midday, and his leg was almost healed. He used to heal a lot quicker, but exhaustion and the gravity of his wounds had made his body weaker.

The Dursleys were still on the floor, not giving any sign of independent movement. Even if he had the strongest will to get rid of them soon, Harry needed them. He needed money, and he needed to avoid suspicion. Luckily, it was Sunday, so their absence wouldn't be noticed. He rose his hand and focused on what he wanted them to do. They rose in the same shaky movement, and started to prepare breakfast. Their faces were blank. He would have to work on that, but for now he was full with joy as he commanded them to do as he saw fit.

It was only after he painfully took his first shower of the week that the idea stroke him. He wasn't alone in this. He had seen the other boy making things levitating, he had seen how he was looking at him. He had to go and talk to him, to offer a sanctuary in this house. Here, he knew, they would be safe from the others.

He went into his cousin's room, and started to move the furniture, as it would be his for now on. He chose his cousin's best clothes, dark trousers and a well-cut shirt, admired himself in the mirror. The clothes were obviously too big for him, but he felt better.

He sat on the bed, which he had put just under the window for it was the first time he could look at the street without being chased or cleaning something, and thought about his plans. He had to make a choice. Would he himself enslaved (because he saw no other words to described what he has done), or allow the other boy, his family has he did? And if the boy actually wanted more...

Even if he was only 10, Harry's mind was dark and cautious. Partly because for him it was the only way to survive, and partly because of his own temper, which happened to be calm most of the time, well, except when his life was in a real danger. And even with his abilities, the dilemma he was in was too difficult for him to sort out alone. And, he thought, he had no right to have it. He had already made his choice, and the other boy would have to make it too. He had the power, but he couldn't possibly choose for him what was the best. The only thing he could do, was to offer peace and safety.

He went back downstairs to find the Dursleys casually waiting in line for new orders, eyes in the mist. He waved a hand, and Petunia started to make lunch, as Vernon and his son sat on the couch, looking at the black TV screen. Everything was settled, and Harry put a note to himself in the kitchen, in order not to forget to feed them when he'll came back.

For the first time in his life, he went freely into the street, and even if his leg wasn't still functioning as it should, he enjoyed the walk. He tried to think about everything good he could possibly have in mind, because he wanted to be sure to remain calm while facing the other boy's, he knew that deep down his anger hadn't exploded yet.

He had merely scratched the top.

As he was small, even for his age, he managed to sneak into the other boy's garden. He cautiously watched through the window what was happening inside.

The house was the exact same as Harry's. The boy was standing in the kitchen, making food. He wasn't looking well. Harry could see that he had difficulties moving his back, and therefore his head lowered, always looking at the ground. He was taller than Harry, and had sharper features, but he was just as pale and unhealthily thin. His dark hair were cut in a very strange way, and it took minutes for Harry to understand why: he had a long scar running down on his skull, on the right side of his head. As he turned to grab ingredients, Harry could also notice that one of his eye was entirely white, blinded somehow, while the other was icy gray. If it wasn't for his scars, he would have been handsome, with his thin palish face.

Harry felt his anger come back, and his aura around him grew, causing the garden's flower to fade. The other boy felt it. As he was turning toward Harry, the boy waved his hand, asking him if he could go outside. Slowly, the boy nodded, placing himself so that his father, who was in the living room watching TV, just as everybody in the neighborhood, couldn't see Harry.

Harry heard the boy mutter something about getting the trash out, and the door shutting down in the minute. Harry went into the street, and they just stayed in front of each other, evaluating each other for a few seconds. Then, as Harry didn't feel any bad intentions into the other boy's mind, he got closer to him.

"I'm Harry." he said, in the most friendly voice he could.

"I'm Damien." the other answered, shaking Harry's hand.

Harry could feel that Damien was like him, he could feel the energy running in his veins, and as he looked into Damien's eyes, he knew that the other boy felt it too. He smiled at him, and it was the first real smile that he had given in his life, and he didn't leave his hand. But the smile vanished as he felt the pain into Damien's body.

"Does he hurt you?" He asked coldly.

"Yes. "

There was no need of further explanation. The boy was shaking in fear. Harry nodded and made a sign of the head toward his own house, asking Damien to follow him.

"But I sh-should be back now..." Damien said. His only eye was black of terror.

"You won't regret it. "

Harry's voice didn't leave any room for discussion, but there was sweetness in it. Still holding Damien's hand, he led him to his house, slowly. He didn't want to scare him more than he already was, he was even afraid that the boy would have a heart attack if he was touched by a leave. Somehow, Damien followed him calmly. He had seen Harry before, and he could still see the marks where his shirt let his skin appeared. But, more, he could see something around him, something powerful. He didn't know why he was sure Harry would not hurt him at any cost, but he was. They both felt like a man meeting a compatriot in a far away place.

The door opened before Harry, without him touching it. Damien's jaw dropped. This wasn't strange accidents, this was magic.

They both went to the kitchen, and it was only at this moment that Damien noticed that something was wrong. Nobody was moving except for Harry.

Two plates full of food were on the table, set up, and Harry made a sign for Damien to sit next to him, and the boy obeyed. He was scared by the family. They all had blank stares, and looked like corpses, but the woman was standing behind the counter.

Harry looked at his own with a smirk. At least, the boy didn't run away in the firsts seconds, but he expected that. It took bravery to live in these conditions, or maybe some insanity.

"What happened to them ?" Damien finally asked after he ate all his food, which only took him five minutes as he was quite literally starving.

"It is something I can do. They just don't think anymore, you see, not that they used to."

Damien laughed.

"So they do what you ask? "

"Yup, they do what I order, I can make them do anything. "

Harry looked at the other boy in the eyes:

"And they can't hurt me anymore." he answered to his silent question.

Damien nodded, half scared by Harry, half amazed in front of the possibilities.

"You're lucky..."

"You could be too."

It was the moment. The moment when Damien would decide to join Harry, or not. Harry looked at his new friend anxiously. He waited minutes, but when Damien locked back at him, his eyes were filled with acceptance, and somewhat of joy. He was thinking of revenge.

Harry smiled, and nodded to him.

They had an understanding. They sat silently, finished their plates, and Harry waved his hand for his cousin to wash them. Damien looked at that with admiration.

They started to talk. They were counting their experience, the accidents, and agreed on calling it magic, whatever it was. It was like they were alone in the world, into the silent house in the silent Sunday afternoon street. Eventually, they started talking about their wounds. Damien could heal too but he wasn't as efficient as Harry. He explained that he had lost his eye because his father didn't want to spend money sending him to the doctor as he was sick, and the skull's scar was from an "accident" falling into the stairs. Harry was angry, but mostly relieved. Even without their common experience, the boys would have got along, as they founded themselves finishing each other sentences. It took them a moment to understand that it was mostly because they were somehow reading each other's minds. Well, in fact, Harry was the reader.

It was almost dark when they heard Damien's father voice calling him.

Harry told his friend not to move, and slowly opened the door.

* * *

 

It took them almost a month to decide what to do with Damien's father. On the one hand, it was hard to manage two houses while going to school, without anyone noticing, but on the second hand they couldn't get rid of him without dooming Damien to an orphanage, as he didn't have any other family.

They decided to train their abilities, they needed to know what they were able to do. Harry was obviously more powerful that Damien, but the other boy had some things to show. He was smart, and had a real talent to foresee what was going to happen. But, and it was far more important, he was able to calm Harry's anger with his only presence. Damien knew how to handle Harry, and the boy was glad for that. It was only the two of them, the others didn't matter.

They hated school, as the other children still treated them as garbage, but now they were together and planning their revenge. They needed a way out.

One day, it became too much. One of the school's children, his name was Paul Nwet, much older than Harry, maybe around 13, decided to bully the boys. He was tall, big, strong, and one could see that it was the only thing he could rely on. He had come across them as they were leaving home, shouting at them.

"Hey freaks!"

They didn't answer. Damien took Harry's hand. Breath, he said silently. Their link had grown enough for both of them to talk by thought if they had a physical contact. It was like Damien always opened his mind for Harry to send messages. Harry took a deep breath, and they hurried. But the other boy didn't look like he was about to let them go. He took a rock, and threw it at Damien, hitting him badly.

The second Harry saw the blood on his friend's face, he lost control. It was the only thing he couldn't stand: someone had hit his family. A non-magic dared hit his brother in front of him. It wasn't only the pain and the fear, now it was also a question of honor, of rightness. It was unfair, all of this was unfair.

_You want to do it..._ he heard.

_Yes_ , he thought, this time _I want to do it_

He looked into Paul's eyes.

"Pain" he said. His voice was cold as ice.

Immediately, Paul fell on the ground, screaming. Harry's eyes were glowing greed, and his pupils dilated of pleasure as he went along the nerves, burning them one by one. He could feel his own energy around him, like a dark wind. He was powerful.

He didn't notice that he was getting closer to Paul until he was almost stepping on him. The boy was twitching from pain, and Harry could see in his mind that he had gone mad. None of his thoughts were logical, or even complete. A puddle of blood was growing around Paul.

Harry rose his hand put it on Paul's head. He took a deep breath, concentrating. He had to stop this, but he couldn't let the boy go. To tell the truth, he didn't want to. A green light exploded between his hand and the boy's head, and it was all. Paul was dead, even if his legs didn't stop twitching.

Harry didn't know how he did that, he didn't know how he was so sure on how to do that, but the boy was dead indeed. He felt more free somehow, like he got rid of a weight in his mind. He couldn't move. His mind was processing the fact that he had killed the boy. That he had had the power to do so.

The hot summer's wind in his dark hair brought him back to reality.

He turned to Damien. The young man was sitting, watching him with a glitch of fear in his eyes. He nodded, there was no other way of ending this, but he could still see the green light into Harry's eyes, and a smirk curling his mouth. Everything around him seemed to have darkened, as if even the light didn't want to approach the boy. But they were in this together. He couldn't let Harry go, or we would be all alone, if not dead. But he discovered something in him that surprised him according to what he was looking at. Loyalty. At this moment, he decided that he would never go against his friend, as it was for him that he had killed.

He stood up, and concentrate his energy to push the corpse away from the road, into the ditch. Happily, they were alone and no one was living nearby. Harry didn't make a move. He was still thrilled by the sensations.

They didn't talk about it later, and went back to their "normal" life. It was their secret. But Harry found himself sleeping less than he should, not that he had nightmare of any sort, he just couldn't sleep more than a few hours.

Bit by bit, they made Damien's father disappear from his social activities, and one day they send him to a psychiatric hospital, nameless. Even without controlling him, his brain was too burnt for him to be able even to talk, nor think correctly. It seemed to be the best option, and the only one which didn't involve a casual accident.

They kept the Dursleys, as they still needed money to eat, and if Harry's cousin went to disappear, it would be noticed by the school, which was on the edge since Paul's body was found, about a month after he died.

Even if they were careful, they had a good time, and an almost normal family life. Harry found the way to make the Dursleys have facial expressions, and in one or two months, it was almost as if they were still free, on the surface.

Harry and Damien eventually found the way to make objects levitate. The first tries made things explode or fly around the room, but as they learned to control themselves, they managed it. Damien couldn't lift more than a hair, but Harry, as he was close to his 11's birthday, could lift many objects at the same time, he managed once to make their bed levitate. It was obvious that Damien didn't have a lot of power, in fact, he almost didn't have any. Harry suspected that Damien's magic was stuck somewhere because of what he had lived, and he didn't blame him. The boy seemed afraid of his own power. Somehow, he was afraid to become as powerful as Harry, therefore, he wasn't jealous of his brother.

Harry's marks remained too. He couldn't lift his shirt even in front of his friend because of the scars which were running on all of his chest and back. He avoided people he didn't know, and hated skin contact. He could know too much with a simple touch. In fact, only Damien could touch him, because he knew where it hurt and where it was fine.

They talked a lot about the possibility for others like them to exist. They decided to stay in the shadows and hide from the others, as they seem to always attack whatever looked like magic, but if they were others, they couldn't stand to let them grow into the non-magical hands, and live the life they had. The personal anger they felt grew into hate at a much larger scale, but they were smart enough to understand hating everyone didn't make any sense. But it was still words, and they were conscious that they didn't have enough information to do anything, even if they eventually had the power.

They still didn't feel safe, so they always managed to do everything together. They had put two beds side to side into Harry's room. Step by step, the house came to look life theirs, but they never called it home.

It was on the summer of their 11's birthday when Harry received the letter.

As they were reading it, their mouth agape. It was a confirmation of what they had imagined, but it was more. They weren't alone. There was a whole society. But the thing that stroke them was that they didn't understand most of the information, including places they had to go and things they had to buy. They talked about it for hours before Harry was struck by an idea.

"Someone's gonna come" he said, his face brightened by the solution

The other boy looked at him with admiration. Of course, why didn't he thought about that?

"They know who and where you are, he stated, but not about what we can do... I didn't even receive one."

"This mean that they know that we are complete ignorant on whatever they talk about here, declared Harry while he shook the letter. And it may means that they don't know at all about you."

"But it also means that they are complete ignorant of this, gravely said Damien as he pointed at Petunia with his head. "

"They mustn't find out. "

Of course, they both knew that. What they did was wrong, and they didn't want to lose their only chance to escape from the situation, which had been deteriorating week by week. They decided to hide Damien's power, to act like he was only a close friend and a guest. Controlling the Dursley tired Harry, and he was feeling strange, sometimes his scar even hurt. He didn't know where he had it, but from its reaction and the pain he sometimes felt, he and Damien had supposed that it was magical, as in view of the letter, it was effectively question of magic.

"Whomever is going to come here, he is going to have the same type of power as we do..."

"So we need to hide them well" concluded Harry.

Even if they apparently stayed calm; in fact, they were panicking. Under the pressure, it only took them an hour or two to clean up the house, making it look like the family still lived here and Damien was only a guest. They had to do the other house too, just in case, and it took them almost half of the night as it had become very dusty. They were good to cover themselves. They put food in both of the fridges, undid the beds of both houses, checked on everything, starting the electricity and the water.

They had decided to lock the Dursleys in their room, which used to be the couple's chamber, and to reduce the magic control that Harry had on them at a minimum range, hoping that the witch that was going to come wouldn't notice. Then, they waited, all the night on the couch, watching TV in a desperate attempt to change their mind. They had no remorse, they had done what needed to be done (mostly), but at this moment it was them against the world, and the world seemed to know too many things about them already. They hated the unknown, and they hated that this very feeling looked too much like what had made the others cruel towards them. But they were together, so they remained calm, doing things as if they were natural, even if they were looking at every second for a pair of unknown eyes to look at them. Eventually, they fell asleep.

Harry found himself in a dusty room. A bathroom, actually, gloomy and dirty like the ones in abandoned houses. There was a mirror, but he could't quite recognize himself in it. The man that was in front of him didn't look like him, quite older, he looked to be around 25, but Harry could sense that he wasn't. He had sharp, aristocratic features, black hairs, he was handsome, but something in him was disturbing.

His eyes. Harry couldn't move away of their crimson stare. Strangely, he didn't feel scared. No, he had the impression that he had always knew the man, even if he couldn't say from where. It was something at the back of his head. His reflection was looking at him with interest, studying his face like he was a strange insect and needed to decide if he was worth of attention. None of them talked for a moment. Harry felt a dizziness on the back of his mind, an intrusion. Focusing on everything he had, he pushed it away as gentle as he could. The imprint of the intruder felt familiar, and Harry didn't want to be aggressive, but he couldn't quite control the forces to defend himself. The expression on the man's face changed: he looked pleased, surprised, and actually quite friendly, even if he looked more like the kind of men you have to respect than those you can be close to.

_A man will come to your house_ , the man said, _do not trust him_.

The man's voice was warm, but sharp. Harry felt his scar burning, and somewhere behind them he heard a woman scream. He nodded, more confused than scared. He opened his mouth to answer.

Suddenly, he was overflown his a storm of images, sounds, information that came from somewhere else, about things he couldn't have had imagine. They were all about an old man he didn't know. It took a second, but the man's face remained into his memory. His skull was about to explode under the pressure. He couldn't make a sound.

He blenched. His scar was burning and his chick hurt. It took a moment to realize that Damien had just slapped him. The other boy was looking at him with a mix of worries, interrogations and fear. Feeling something running on his face, Harry found out that his scar was bleeding. He ran to the bathroom to stop it, be when he found the bandages it was already gone. He washed himself, changed his clothes and went back downstairs.

" What the hell was that! " gasped Damien

"I don't know, Damy, I don't know."

Harry was shaken. He sat on the couch to think. He wasn't sure about what was real and what wasn't. Inspecting his mind, he found the image of the old man.

"I had... a vision I think, something like that. It said that an old man is gonna come, and that we can't trust him."

"Didn't you just dreamed? I mean a nightmare, and hit your face somewhere..."

"We will know. I have a very clear image of this man. It felt so real... If he is the one that come, I'll do a sign for you, and we'll know what to do. "

Damien nodded. He had stopped wondering a long time ago about the possibilities of things to happen around his new brother, and all he could do was trust him. And none of them knew where their abilities stopped; they had to take every chance.

"It's not like we were going to tell everything to the first witch we met" he said ironically smiling, his only icy eye sparkling in amusement.

"It doesn't look like a good idea indeed" agreed Harry.

"And, may I say that I'm not aware of _anything_ on magic or else. "

"Do I even know you? "Asked Harry, a malicious glimmer in his green eyes.

He was reassured that fear had gone from Damien's face. He couldn't possibly manage to get out of the situation without him, and in the end, he didn't even want to. To be alone, and he knew it better than everyone else, was the worst thing imaginable. Being alone was dooming himself to weakness and confusion, and Harry was a child that despised both.

They didn't even finish their breakfast when Harry felt something at the back of his head. Magic. He made a sign to inform Damien and a few second later someone was knocking at the door.

Harry went to open it.


	2. One- Of Orange juice and butterflys

It was him. There was no doubt. A man of age, with a grand-fatherly face, a big white beard braided with elegance, a crooked-broken nose and sparkling baby-blue eyes looked at Harry behind his half-moon glasses, and mostly, the most fabulously horrifying robe one could have ever seen. He didn't even try to understand how the man was wearing the flashy orange, deep blue and pink while still looking honorable. He blinked and didn't have to fake his surprise as he intended to do so. The man was smiling at him with confidence.

"Hello, Harry,” he said. “May I come in?".

_Dumbledore_. The name flashed into Harry's head. He could almost hear the other man again, he could almost feel his crimson eyes on him.

_Do not trust him._

Harry let the man in.

"Harry, who's this?" He heard Damien say behind him.

"I don't know, he is not a friend of the family, but he knows my name," Harry said lightly.

Damien nodded. He looked at the man with an apparent curiosity. Harry invited the man to sit on the couch.

"Do you want anything, Mr..."

"Dumbledore,” the man said while he held his hand for Harry to shake it. “Albus Perceval Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

Harry took his hand, preparing himself to keep a blank face. _He does look like him..._ He heard the man think. He was curious, cautious. He was looking for something. He knew more tha-  
Harry broke the contact, partly because of the convenience, partly because he had what he wanted.

"I'll take orange juice if you please."

_That's almost cannibalism_ , Harry thought half amused, half horrified.

He could feel the power of the man by the simple fact that he had made himself at home in a minute, without thinking for a minute about his own security. Turning his back to the man to get the juice from the fridge, he looked at Damien.  _Danger_.

Without changing his own expression, Damien stood still, playing the innocent little boy. It would have been perfect if the scar on his skull and his bony face didn't make him look like a wounded soldier- well more like a dead and resurrected one. Somehow, he managed to make his face look pleasant and friendly. He was very good at that.

Harry gave the glass to Dumbledore and sat graciously in the opposite chair. The numerous wounds he had all over himself had made him aware of his body, and he controlled every part of it. Even with a shirt and jeans (he couldn't wear T-shirts even during summer because of the scars on his arms), he managed to be elegant; which was disturbing, considering his age.

Dumbledore was looking at Damien with curiosity before returning his attention to Harry who was patiently waiting in the armchair.

"If you are here to see my uncle and aunt, I'm afraid that they left for the week.They won a trip in a newspaper contest."

And they did win the contest, Harry had made sure of it. How sad, they had missed the plane and tomorrow, they would be waiting at the airport. Such a coincidence, nobody would be able to recognize them in a crowd...

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Damien smirk discreetly at the perfectly well-placed lie.

"Well, Harry m'boy, I am here to speak with you about a letter... but it may be better if your friend went home for a moment?"

Harry had a shiver at the grandfatherly voice calling him ‘my boy’. Now that was insulting. His face didn't change from a polite curiosity, and he nodded at Damien. Of course, the other boy would not be far away.

"So, as I was saying, you received a letter from Hogwarts a few days ago. I am the headmaster of this school. It is a school for very special persons, just like you," Dumbledore declared.

Harry hardly contained his burst of laughter. The man did think he was stupid, his name and titles were on the very letter that was sent to him, along with " _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_  ".

"You're a wizard, Harry. See the things you can sometimes do, the strange things when you're happy, or scared? Well, that's it!" Continued the old man in his grand-fatherly voice. Harry could sense a bit of excitation in the sentence, like the man had waited to announce it in the most theatrical way possible. He looked content, and Harry gave him a bright smile, looking like a child at Christmas. The only reason he didn't show his real amusement to the man was the warning he’d had, and the feeling that the man was more than he showed.

"But I don't have any money for the school, Sir, and I don't think my family..."

"Don't worry about that, m'boy. You have a very well-filled vault in Gringotts – the wizards bank. Moreover, you were registered at Hogwarts since your birth."  
Harry's heart missed a beat. He was overflowed with the implications of this little sentence that the man had thrown with such little care. He managed to keep the amazed smile on his face.

"But how?" he asked. His voice wasn't as joyful as he wanted it to be.

"Well your parents were wizards, of course."

Without letting Harry take the time to process the information, the old man continued on the same tone:

"Well, I will send a professor of the school to help you get into the wizarding world before the classes start. We wouldn't want you to lose yourself while trying to attend school, would we?"  
Even if his first reflex was to refuse, Harry nodded. The man was going to send him another wizard, probably someone that he trusted, and hopefully someone who could give Harry information, not only about the entire world he had to discover, but about how Dumbledore wanted him to discover it.

"I have a question, Sir," he asked as the old man was leaving.

"Of course m'boy, what is it?"

"Why did you came here? I mean, you could have sent someone else, and I’m sure I'm not the only one in my position, and you surely have many other thing to do, so..." Harry did his best to look intimidated, eyes on the floor, his back bowed. It worked, as the old man put pitiful eyes on him and sat back on the couch.

"You see, Harry, you're not any wizard. You did some extraordinary things when you were just a baby. Tell me, do you know how your parents died?"

"A car accident."

Harry knew it wasn't the truth, of course. He’d had access to some information in his uncle’s head, but the man didn't know much more than:  _"freaks killed for what they were, gladly_ _._ "

Dumbledore shook his head negatively.

"They were killed, like many people at that time, by a most powerful Dark Mage. And you, as a baby, you destroyed him. He gave you your scar,” he said, pointing towards Harry’s forehead. “You are a savior in the wizarding world, Harry, and I believe everybody already knows your name. You are our Golden Boy, aren't you?"  
  


Harry couldn't say anything, so he nodded. There was too much to think about, and every bit of information made him want to break everything around him. He wasn't pleased, he wasn't pleased at all. And he knew that his magic was going to slip out of him soon, and maybe wake the Dursleys up.

The old man had to go. Now.

He sent all of his feeling to Damien, hoping that it would help him contain his magic a little longer, and that the boy could think of a distraction. Only a few seconds after that, he heard a knock at the door, and the boy came into the house.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I forgot to take the book my father lent you the other day..." he said politely.

Harry couldn't do anything else than admire his brother's capacity to act.

"It's OK, young man, I was leaving," Dumbledore said while heading towards the door. "I'll see you in September, Harry," he finally said cheerfully.

Something fell on the floor above. Ignoring it the best he could, Harry held his hand out to say goodbye.

That went well, he heard the man think, he might be useful...

Breaking the link, the old man left the house with a last Santa-like smile, his outrageous robes flying around him.

Harry let himself slide along the closed door. Things were breaking everywhere in the house, and a black smoke was surrounding him. He was hyperventilating from panic, hitting the floor with his hand in a desperate attempt to calm himself.

It took him a long time to be able to rise off the ground again, but he did. He looked at the surrounding mess with astonishment. Furniture were upside down, the dishes broken everywhere leaving pieces of glass and porcelain all around the floor, stuck on the walls and even the ceiling.  


Harry closed his eyes.

He knew it wasn't him. It wasn't his magic which had done that. His magic wasn't this messy, this brutal, even when panicking. But it wasn't safe to tell Damien; the boy was positively terrorized by what had just happened. The boy was shaking, walking all around, scratching his arms, muttering without end. Black veins ran along his neck and jaw, and drops of sweat dripped on his forehead. He wasn't looking well, and Harry felt remorse hitting his heart. It was his fault; he shouldn't have sent his panic to the other boy. He couldn't take it.  
  


Damien was _sick_. It was obvious, but Harry didn't know how much before now.

Harry took his brother's hand and helped him sit on the couch, a hand on his back, whispering what he knew to be what he wanted to hear. The boy's mind was a mess, a chaotic storm of power and raw emotions.

"It was a close call..." he said when the other boy was finally able to listen.

"Yeah, and it _may_ be a good idea to clean up the mess."

Harry was relieved. As long as Damien was able to do sarcasm, he could still manage.

He went upstairs to unlock the Dursley's room. It was a mess in here too. The Dursleys had fell on each other, and had obviously tried to crawl and open the door. A close call indeed.

He made them go downstairs and clean up the house. Luckily, nothing irreplaceable was broken, and they could hide the wall's hole with furniture.

Harry crossed Petunia's eyes. She was the only one that remained conscious, even if she didn't have any control on her body. It was her punishment. She liked to look, anyway. Harry didn't think that Damien had noticed it, not that he wanted him to.

When it was all over, midday had passed, so the boys decided to made themselves a meal before discussing the information they had.

"So, what was the trigger?" asked Damien, his voice firm again.

"Many things. I'll start by the beginning. So, we had guessed right, and so had my vision – or whatever it was. The man, Dumbledore, is the headmaster of the wizarding school, in which I am supposed to attend as I was registered the day I was born."

"But it means..."

"That my parents were wizards too, yes, I know, and the man confirmed that. It happened that they didn't die in a car accident, as my dear family repeated to me. They were killed by what the man called a Dark Mage..."

"Harry, I'm sorry..."

"It's ok, I'm ok, that is not the problem. I knew they were lying, I just didn't know the truth. This fact gives us much information: there is a clear distinction, if not for everybody, but at least for the man, between "dark", and I guess "light" magic, or politic, or whatever."

"Yeah, it makes sense. But are you sure he said the truth?"

"He didn't lie, but it doesn't mean that he said the truth."

"I see. Do you have the name of this Dark Mage, because he might certainly be a threat..."  
The boy's voice made his intentions clear: a threat isn't a threat if it is conveniently annihilated. Harry laughs at his brother's determination.

"Aha, and I have no doubt that you could protect me very well. But no, the old man implied that he was dead, he said that I destroyed him, when I was a baby. And yes, that's where things get difficult. So the man killed my parents, I don't know why, but let's just suppose for the moment that he was an evil man or something like that, somehow I destroyed him, getting out with only a scar on the forehead. Apparently, it made me some sort of legendary hero in his world, the man said, ‘that Golden Boy.’"

"Aaaand I see the problem."

"Yes, it means that people will have expectations towards me. It means that they know things about me, or that they think they know things. I will be under the spotlights no matter what I do."

Damien nodded. That was a problem; especially when you had as many things to hide and as many tempers to calm asHarry. Not even mentioning the voices.

"But there is something else," Harry continued.  
  


Damien looked at him with frank curiosity. It wasn't like Harry to be so touched by something, even if in the matter, facts were important and personal.

"If my parents were witches and I am a celebrity, the only way I ended up here is that someone wanted me to be here."

Harry's voice slapped the air. He was furious, and calm, and it was the worst combination. Damien felt a shiver along his spine. Harry could be very scary, but when you had seen his shadows, he became death itself. Damien almost felt pity for the person that had done this to him – almost.  
Harry waved his hand to change the subject, as the Dursleys were cleaning the table in perfect synchronization.

"Anyway, a professor will come here to help me to get along with this new world. I will ask, but I don't think that you will be allowed to come at all. We have to think about what we will do after."

The inevitable separation was a pit between them. None of them knew how to deal with life without the other, well not anymore.

"We will keep contact," declared Damien. "We cannot plan anything if we don't know anything about where we are going, so I suggest leaving this conversation until after your little trip."  
  


Harry nodded. He didn't think he could get so sad at the very idea of the separation, and he felt the same thing into his brother's mind.

"So we wait."

"So we wait," answered Damien in echo.

Silence fell on them like a cloth. They stayed, facing each other, as the warm summer's wind entered in the room by the open windows behind Harry, the Dursleys standing in line as usual while they didn't have any instructions.

"I'm going for a walk," Harry said finally. It was obvious that he needed to be alone.

"See you."

Harry waved his hand and left the house.

He went along the empty streets where every house was the same. Everything was calm, not a bird in a tree, not a man in the street. Of course, the disappearance of Paul had made a shock in the neighborhood, mostly because nobody could determine the cause of the death, and even a month after, there weren’t many children that were allowed to play outside on their own. Harry walked to a park and sat on a bench. He needed to think calmly, to make decisions quickly. But mostly, he needed to keep his mind clear from useless emotions. A woman in her mid 30s was sitting on the other side of the park, her son was playing with another kid on one of the structures.

  


She looked bored as hell. He wished he could be bored as hell.

She greeted him with a movement of the head. If she knew what he was, she would have been horrified. She would have taken her screaming children, telling them that he was dangerous and abnormal. But she didn't know, and she greeted him calmly, as the only adult in the area. Harry smirked at the irony. By the fact that he existed, he had enemies. And he wondered how many children didn't make it until they received the letter, how many children were sick like Damien; how many children were doomed because there was no letter for them. The marks that they had, the same that he had all over himself.

But this woman, in front of him wasn't threatening. She was tacking care of two kids, and they looked happy.

Harry shook his head and sat back on the bench. He sighed, and decided to go back home.

"I think we should do something to relax," he said to Damien who was watching TV absently. "How about a park or something. Spend time together, I mean, out of here..."

"That's a fucking good idea, brother!" The other boy exclaimed, already reaching for his coat. "How about a Zoo? After all, you were supposed to go there with them, that day..."

"I like the irony," Harry said with a smirk, while sending the Dursleys into their chamber.  
  


It was quite a long to go to the Zoo on foot, and they didn't have any money to spend on bus or taxi. But they did enjoy the walk. Of course, it became odd when approaching the town, and passing more people, they attracted attention. Well, Damien attracted attention. He used to be very ashamed about his face, his blind eye and scar, but now, he stood upright and supported the gaze of anyone who dared stare at him. He told Harry once that his face was the proof of how different he was, and that for now it should make him proud. He survived it. They both did.

The Zoo was overcrowded, as expected, and they both sighed at the entrance.

"Two tickets, please, ma'm," said Harry politely while giving her the money.

"And where are your parents, or guardians, young man?"

The woman was a grandma, but not the fine type. More the ones that scream about how degenerated this generation was while holding their little dog and their bag.  
  


Damien faked a sad look.

"We have none ma'm," he said. "They’re in heaven."

"Oh my poor boys, I'm sorry! Here's your tickets."

The orphan thing always worked, and Harry suspected that it was mostly because it wasn't a lie.

They enjoyed seeing the giraffes, and lions, but the thing Harry liked the most was the reptiles. Damien never fully understood this fascination, but it was one in too many things he couldn't understand in this world, so he didn't mind.

Because of this, they went to the vivarium. It was huge, and filled with snakes of all colors and shapes. Harry was so excited that he stuck his face against the windows to have a better look, and Damien watched him with amusement. It was one of the rare moments he could see Harry actually behaving like a child, and he allowed himself to be won over with excitement.

Harry stopped in front of one of the biggest cages. A gigantic snake was sleeping inside, its pale green scales glimmering under the artificial light. It felt wrong, somehow.

**"I know what it is to be locked in a cage..."**  he said softly.

The snake looked at him, like his voice had awakened him. Harry watched it in shock.

**"Can you hear me?"**  he said, unbelieving that he was actually talking to a snake. The snake nodded its triangular face.

**"I didn't know snakes could talk... Do you talk to many people?"**  The snake said no with a shake from the head. If Harry didn't know about his magical possibilities, he would have thought he had lost it.  _Damien, you should come and see th_ _is_ _!_  He said mentally.

He was amazed by the snake, waiting for his brother to come to see if he could talk to it as well when a child pushed him on the floor.

"Look!" the child screamed, "The snake is awake!" And he knocked the glass repetitively.

Harry could see the anger in the snake's eyes. He was annoyed. By the child, by the sound of his screams, by the fact that he had been thrown to the ground without even a look.  
  


The glass disappeared. The child fell into the water while the snake escaped, slowly getting out of the cage. It turned its face toward Harry, which was still on the floor.

**"Thank you, little speaker. What is your name?"**  it asked.

**"Harry Potter."**

The snake looked at Harry like it had seen the devil for the first time, then shook its head.

**"I'm Nagini. I'll talk about you to my master** **,** **"**  it said while slithering away.

Harry nodded, not even thinking about the fact that he was talking to a snake in front of everybody. He saw his brother smirking at the imprisoned boy, and Harry burst out laughing. His brother helped him to get back on his feet and they left as discreetly as possible. They went straight back home, talking about what just happened, mostly mocking the child. He had gotten what he deserved, and no harm was done to anyone. Once at home, they ate pizza and watched films. Harry's birthday was in a week, and they couldn't stop talking about that, so much that even the incident was forgotten. They finally fell asleep as usual, meaning on the couch in a very unnatural position, while the Dursleys were still standing in the kitchen, waiting for orders.

The next week, they heard someone knock at the door again. Of course, they had felt him coming, and everything was prepared. Harry had consolidated his hold on the Dursleys in order to make them look alive; being absent conveniently two times was kind of suspect. Plus, he wanted to test the reactions of the witch who was supposed to introduce him to the magical world.  
  


Harry went again to open the door.

It took a moment for him to understand that a wall didn't grow in front of his house, but that it was a gigantic man standing on the landing. Harry quickly let the man in.

"Hello, Harry," the man said.  
  


He had to lower his head to go through the door. He had black, big, buffy and shaggy beard and hair, and his clothes could make one wonder if he didn't kill a cow just minutes ago to put its skin on himself.

"Who are you?" Harry made Vernon said, behind him. The uncle did look horrified and shocked that someone dared pass his door without conforming to his idea of how tall someone could be, and Harry thought that it was one of his best works.

"My name is Rubeus Hagrid, the hunting guard and guardian of keys at Hogwarts, Sir. I'm here to take Harry to buy the supplies he will need for school."

Vernon moved forward the man.

"He shall not go into this wicked place to learn magical treats! I won't allow it!"

"He will go to the best wizarding school, Hogwarts, which is directed by the best headmaster it has ever seen, Albus Dumbledore!"

"I will not let an old fool..."

"Do. Not. Insult. Dumbledore. In. Front. Of. Me." The giant said, threatening uncle Vernon with his pink umbrella.

Well, that was clear. The old man had sent his little pet to fetch Harry, and the boy didn't think that this giant had more autonomy in his speech than uncle Vernon, but at least he didn't really look threatening. More like a big teddy bear with too much attachment for, presumably, people that had taken care of him. He made Vernon step back and grumble as he walked to the kitchen, while Petunia was still looking at Hagrid in a distinguished horror, holding her son against her.

To control the three of them at the same time and make them do such complicated actions was tiring and Harry felt his control slip. Already, his cousin's eyes were empty.

Luckily, the giant turned around.

"Come, Harry. Unless you want to say, of course," he said with amusement.

"Sir, can my friend come with us?"

Damien was just next to Harry.

"Is he a muggle?" The giant asked with concern.

"Muggle?"

"Non-magical folks."

He saw Damien tense under the insult.

"Well I guess  _that's_  what I am, then," he said calmly.

They had taken the decision to hide Damien the night before. The boy didn't want to make his magic grow, and his power terrified him as much as the, well, muggles disgusted him.

"I'm afraid he cannot, Harry."

"Ok, sir" Harry said. He said goodbye to Damien, discreetly made the Dursleys hide in the kitchen, and went out with Hagrid.

They went to London, and entered a dusty tavern called the Leaky Cauldron. Even if Harry didn't see how a tavern could contain what he needed to attend school, he followed Hagrid without hesitation.

The place was filled with people – wizards, judging by their robes and pointed hats, which were discussing around tables lighted by candles.

_Don't they have electricity?_  Harry asked himself. He couldn't understand: the place would have been welcoming with a few more lights, and if not windows, a single lamp would have made it. But no, it had to be candles. Well, it gave the place an atmosphere...

" Hagrid!" exclaimed a man behind the counter. "Same as usual?"

"No, no, Tom, I'm on a business trip for Hogwarts. I'm taking Mr Potter here to Diagon Alley!"

Hagrid tried to put his gigantic hand on Harry's back, and the boy barely avoided it by a step to the side. Hagrid didn't seem to notice it.

"By Merlin! That's Harry Potter!" yelled Tom.

It took every control Harry had not to kill the man. Many witches came to greet him and shake his hand. He composed his face to the more polite expression, and responded with care. So, that was how much he was famous. He hadn’t realized it before. This was the best cover he could hope for. He was hidden under the spotlights. ‘Welcome back’, they said, ‘I can't believe I can finally meet you,’ they said. They loved him, well, they loved his image, his legend. What did Dumbledore said? Yes, that was it. The Golden Boy.

  


He hated that title. He was feeling trapped, but at the same time, he knew that it was his way out of anything. He wasn't the Golden Boy.  
  


Be he could fake a bit of it.

He noticed that all the eyes were glaring at his scar. He would have to hide it carefully.

Finally, a tall man with a purple turban came to him.

"He-hello, Mist-ster Potter," he said.

" Professor Quirell! I didn't notice you!" shouted Hagrid.

The professor nodded before turning back his attention to Harry. The boy felt his scar warming. It wasn't painful, but it was reacting. He rose an eyebrow.

"Good evening Professor Quirell, it is a pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice sweet as silk. He held out his hand, and Quirell shook it. The man's hand, which appeared to be shaking an instant before, became a firm grip.

Two crimson eyes looked at him for an instant, from inside Quirell's mind.

Harry's heart missed a beat, but his face didn't make a move. Quirell bowed his head.

"S-same, Mister Pot-potter." He said.

"Well, I think Hagrid and I should get going, but I'm looking forward to seeing you at school, professor," Harry said, keeping his own head as straight as humanly possible. Even in his muggle clothes, he did look aristocratic at this instant, and his eyes were slightly glowing in this unnatural green. In the penumbra of the room, the effect couldn't be missed. Quirell smirked discreetly.

Hagrid, however, was leading the way to the pub's backyard, without noticing anything or taking time to the least politeness. After correctly saying goodbye, Harry followed him.

Hagrid tapped a design on the wall's bricks, and they started to deviate from each other, revealing a big crowded street. That was it: the wizarding world.

_Welcome back, Harry_. He heard.

_Thank you stranger in my head_ , he thought.

Anyway, he had to get rid of Hagrid, as soon as possible. He only needed some information, and then space, freedom, and surely not a hand constantly trying to touch his back to push him forward.

He waited for Hagrid to show him the different shops, and most importantly Gringotts, before planning his escape: the man wasn't bad, but god was he slow and he couldn't be missed in the crowd given how tall he was.

"I'm sorry Hagrid," Harry said in his most child-like voice. "But can't I go shopping alone? I know you took time off from your busy day for me, but, you know, it's an adventure..."

"Alright, alright, I understand. Just, don't go into Knockturn Alley," The giant responded with a bit of a hurry. "It is very infamous, and filled with bad people, you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then go and have fun! Meet me on your way back at the pub, I shall escort you home, alright?"

"Yes!" Harry nodded enthusiastically. He didn't think it would be that easy to get rid of the man, even for an instant, but Hagrid seemed to be the type of person always thinking of two things at the same time, confusing both and finally never understanding a thing fully. Well, it wasn't quite his fault.

Harry made is way to Gringotts; the first thing he needed was to know his resources.  
  


He entered in the biggest hall he had ever seen, well even if it wasn't that difficult as he almost never got out of the Durleys's. But this was huge, and overflowed with signs of wealth, marble and gold everywhere on the walls, chandeliers of crystal on the ceiling. The luxury of the place was outstanding. Harry was a bit intimidated, but he walked towards to the closest counter as if he owned the place.

"Excuse me, Sir, " he said to the strange creature that was behind it. He chose not to wonder what it was, as long as it looked civilized, but he took note to look it up later. The creature made him wait before raising its eyes.

"How can I help you?" it said with a nasal voice.

"I'm Harry Potter, and I'd really appreciate if you could show me how to access my vault, Sir."

"And does Mister Potter have his key?" The creature answered with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I wasn't informed that I would need a key to access it. Is there any other way...?"

"Well, I guess we can find something. Follow me, please."

The creature disappeared behind the counter and made appeared near a little door on the right. Harry followed it into the corridors of light wood and marble to a little room, which appeared to be an office. They sat at each end of the desk. The little creature - it was at most the size of a 7 years old - handed him a paper, with his name on it, and a little and magnificently engineered knife.

"If you could put a drop of your blood on the paper, Mr Potter, I shall be able to verify your identity and therefore to give you access to your vault and properties."  
  


Harry nodded and obeyed. He cut his finger and let a drop of blood fall over it, then the creature took the paper back.

"As I see you are indeed Mr Potter, and that it is your first visit at Gringotts. Do you want us to check on your properties and titles too?"

"If you please, Sir." Harry's voice was firm but he was ecstatic. So he had more than money, and something made him think that he wasn't quite supposed to have access to all of these information.

"This," said the creature while holding a paper, "is the accounting of your vaults at Gringotts. If you may please wait, I shall be back with the other information."

Harry nodded again and took the paper; he didn't know what to say. He wasn't expecting that, but the more he looked at the situation, the more possibilities he could see.

The creature left quickly and he started reading.

He actually had many vaults in the bank, which seemed to be united in one as the one that was in charge of them was...

Albus Dumbledore.

Harry gazed at the paper furiously, and the thing almost burnt right away. The man had taken his money. Harry had access to the Potter's vault, the Evan's vault, as a legacy, and a special vault from the ministry of magic for "The-Boy-Who-Lived". In the three of them, money was missing. Harry was glad that the little creature had left because the expression on his face at this very moment was nothing but pleasant. Yes, he was now rich, and it was a relief, but the old man had dared to take money, his parents money on the top of that.

_Calm..._  
He took a deep breath.

The little creature came back quickly, holding files in his little and abnormally thin hands. It gave him the files.

"You are eligible to the names of Potter, Evans, Peverell and Gryffindor. You are the only heir of the Houses of Potter and Gryffindor, therefore, you posses the Potter manor and every Gryffindor's properties and vaults; the amount of the fortunes and details are in the file. As you are an orphan, which means that there is no Lord Potter, Gryffindor and Peverell alive, you can proclaim your lordship, but you will only have access to your chairs in the winzemagot at the age of fifteen, and eligible to vote at seventeen. Do you want to proclaim your Lordship, Mr Potter?"  
  


The boy was stunned. He knew he didn't understand half of the implications of what was given to him this day. He had to be careful.

"I have a few questions first," he said, attempting to keep his voice calm.

"If you please."

"First, I see here that Albus Dumbledore is, or was in charge of my wealth. I need to know if he can still make moves on my accounts, and if he can see what I decide to do with it. Then, I need to know the charges and goods that the title of lordship brings to me, how theses titles work, what are my rights on the properties, and finally, as you may tell by my outfit, I was raised by muggles, therefore I do not know the values of money here and cannot evaluate the numbers you gave me."  
  


The creature blinked. It didn't expect that from an eleven-year old, that was for sure. But it didn't expect the heir of two of the most important pure-blood houses to be raised by muggles either.

It sat back on it's chair.

"Well, Mr Potter. You may want first to choose a private counselor, which means a goblin, such as I, who will follow your file specifically and, of course be held incommunicado."

"This would be great, Sir."

The Goblin left and another, dressed in richer clothes and a monocle on his right eye came and sat in front of Harry.

"My college informed me that you had a few questions. As you are one of our greatest clients, under the name of the Potter, Peverell and Gryffindor, I found it more suitable for me to answer them and ... to help you in the future. I am Greatflow, the current director of this place. So, let's start at the beginning. The wizard's money uses galleons, gold, silver and bronze. Ten Bronze equal one silver, etc. One bronze is 5 of the muggle money you use, do you follow me?"  
Harry nodded while trying to record every of those information in his memory. He was sure he could read about it and learn it more properly after, but the fact that he was in front of the bank director made him aware that he had to make a good impression, for whatever he would need him for later.

"About your Keeper," Greatflow continued in the same nasal voice that he seemed to share with all of his kind. "He still has a hand on your account until your political majority, which means fifteen. But, he will not be informed right away of what you are doing, and if I may say, the mail maybe slow to reach him.”Harry gave him a frank smile. The goblin didn't like Dumbledore, or he liked the interest of the best client of the two, but anyway this was a new card in his hand that he could appreciate justly.

"Now, we will talk about your titles and properties. Claiming your titles allow you to have the name, rights on the house and the political sieges that come with it. You will learn about the subtleties of that later, I think, but I can explain them to you now."

"No thanks. Thank you, Sir, but I think I will do without it as I am only eleven and can have my rights on this, if I understood well, only on my fifteenth birthday. We already have a lot to talk about."

"Indeed, Mr Potter, indeed. So, if you claim your Lordship nobody else will be able to claim it anymore as you will be declared the active heir of the house. Nobody can know that you claimed it unless you decide so or unless he or she comes to Gringotts claiming the same title. Of course, at your majority, you will have to handle the house and its funds. So, before we talk about the manor, do you want to claim the Lordship of the houses Potter, Gryffindor and Peverell?"

The Goblin had said that without even breathing, and it was probably what had gave him his name. He considered the possibility of letting this go, it would be easier at least for his headache. But he would obviously need it. Titles mean power and social consideration, and for now, he didn't have any of these two. He agreed.

"Give me your hand, Harry James Potter, Lord of the houses Potter, Gryffindor and duke of Peverell."

Harry gave the Goblin his hand, and after cutting his finger again, which had already healed, the creature put it on a paper almost black with writing. Then he took a box from a drawer in his desk. The box was golden and deep blue, with his initials craved on it. He opened the box and saw three rings inside. The goblin made him sign for him to put them on his finger. The first one was a simple translucent ring, probably in crystal, with a triangle relief. A soft light glow from the triangle while the ring was adjusting itself on his finger. Harry stood fascinated for a moment, but then again, he didn't want to look like a fool, or even worse, a child. Then, he took the second which was much more pretentious - all gold with ruby lions all around it, and a big blazon on the top, a griffon, harry guessed, roaring at... well, its enemies. Again, the ring adjusted itself to his finger, but without any light or such. Then, he took the third one with all the care and precautions he could. He may have had the names of the two others, and they were the proof of his birthrights, but this one was his father's. It was his real family, it was his name, it was all he didn't know about himself. It was toward this that he felt responsibility. The ring was in a bright silver, with the letter P simply carved on it. By putting it on his finger, Harry felt warmer. He was at his place, he was where he should always have been.  
The goblin that had waited in silence talked again, in the same tone:

"Good. Now, we shall talk about your manor."

When Harry finally got out of the bank, he was tired, content, his head full of plans and the sun was already high on the bright blue sky. He took minutes on the porch to calm himself and think logically. Yes, that was it. The first things he needed were clothes in order to blend into the crowd; right now he had a big "muggle" written on his forehead, just next to " The-Boy-Who-Lived-Please-Come-And-Shake-My-Hand". He went to the finest shop, as indicated by Mr Greatflow, the most discreet possible.

The shop was a big room, decorated with taste, with dark wood on the floor, deep brown walls pierced with windows with colored glass. A tall man with the darkest skin Harry had ever seen was sitting behind a desk, in the middle of the shelves.

With the help of the man, Harry bought a complete wardrobe in green and dark tones for himself, and an other one in blue and dark for Damien, he knew his sizes by heart as he was the one of the two making clothes when money started to ran out. He asked the seller to apply a spell which will allow the clothes to adjust themselves to him or Damien as they grew. He was relieved that this spell existed; his brother didn't seem to stop growing. He was now dressed in a beautiful but simple black tunic with silver details, black trousers, elegant boots and a cape whose collar rose up to half his neck. It wasn't that he didn't like colors, but black was discreet, genteel, could be worn with everything and it gave him the look of an adult. Now, he could allow himself to attract attention.  
  


Then he went to buy a cauldron, choose an owl, as it was recommended and gave it the name of Onyx, as it was all black, excepted for one silver feather on its right wing. It was truly beautiful. Then, he went to have his eyes treated. He noticed that without glasses, his eyes were even more stunning. Not in the beautiful kind of stun, but he didn't need to be beautiful, he needed to be taken seriously.

He had to buy a bag with an extension charm, before he literally raided the bookstore. He bought what he needed for school, plus books about magical plants, creatures, witches, history of magic, everything he was wondering about. He was looking for something about the different laws on the muggles (even he didn't know what he could or couldn't do he was pretty sure that if someone knew he would be send to jail for the very least), when a blonde haired boy came next to him, picking a book.

"Excuse me, but I think that you took the wrong edition," Harry said politely, giving the boy the right book. He had a thin face, pale like he never got out and he was dressed in what Harry knew to be the finest fabric, his outfit could in itself be quite astonishing if he wasn't wearing it in such uncomfortable manner. Next to him was a man, older, his father no doubt, with longer hair of the same color, and a supercilious expression towards everything and everyone. He was holding a cane of black wood with metallic snake's head knob.

"Thank you!" the boy said in the high pitched voice of the boy which wants to look more important and mannered than they are. "I'm Draco Malfoy," He continued, offeringhis hand.

"It's a pleasure, Draco Malfoy," he said with a bright smile while he shook the boy's hand, which appeared to be only thinking every way of not disappointing his father. "I'm Harry Potter."

He saw at the same time a bright exited smile appeared on the boy's face, and his father tense immediately. It was actually kind of funny, and he didn't expect to see both extremes in the same room, on faces that were so similar.

"Harry Potter!" shouted the boy. "I can't believe I have met you! So, you are going to Hogwarts with me, that's going to be great!"

"Calm down, Draco, behave yourself, please. Let the "Boy-Who-Lived" breath," interrupted the older Malfoy, one could feel the quotation marks in his voice.

"It's perfectly alright, Mr Malfoy, but I prefer to be called Harry. I don't consider a compliment a nickname pointing the fact that I had the luck to survive while others died. I don't even understand what I should be proud about in my fame," Harry said, his voice sharp as a razor, but still in the most perfect politeness.

Mr Malfoy rose an eyebrow. Harry had chosen his words well. After hearing that, no one could tell who he was pointing to under the word of  _others_. And no one was expecting such a politeness and word game from a boy this age, especially the Golden Boy.

The fact was that Harry had a high awareness of that.

"We shall see each other at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy," the boy continued, switching to his sweet and precious tone. "But now, I shall be going, I have many things to buy yet. Farewell, Mr Malfoy."

As he said the word, he let the surface of his magic slip through his constant control, making his eyes glow in a gloomy-green light that the oldest Malfoy knew too well. The man instinctively took a step backwards and turned pale, even if his face didn't move at all.

What a wily man, Harry thought with amusement. He almost felt sorry not having shook his hand, but he may be able to have a more complete idea of the man's mind later on.

The only thing he had still to buy was a wand; he had voluntarily kept this one for the end. He wanted to think about the possibility of giving a wand to Damien. It could help the boy control his magic, but Harry had the presentiment that it wouldn't be helping at all. It was clear that he was the only one of the two studying, and he couldn't see his brother going to a muggle school alone without imploding.

Harry shivered. The image was actually far too accurate. Yes, before that, he had to know what was happening to the other boy. He never saw things like this on muggles; and it was obviously magic-related. But on the other hand he couldn't talk about it to anyone, because a lack of control means danger and people tended to eliminate danger by any way possible. So, it was his own responsibility, and he would have to work on it quickly.

He went to Olivander's. The interior was dark, austere, and seemed a bit neglected. It was a narrow, deep room, with high shelves where thousands of boxes of every color, all equally dusty, were piled up, reaching the ceiling of the room, and a unique wooden chair. There was no one in sight. Harry was about to ring the little bell on the counter when a man suddenly appeared on a rolling ladder, probably in the attempt to make the client jump in surprise. Harry didn't make a move, but an attentive observer could have seen the air get disturbed around him, and maybe the discreet but firm movement his hand made toward the dagger hidden in his pocket. Even with his powers, Harry felt better with a real weapon, mostly because it couldn't blow up in his hand by accident, but also because old habits died hard.

"Ha! Mr Potter, I was surprised you did not see me sooner."

He descended from his ladder with surprising agility and began to rummage through the piles of boxes, mumbling. Harry didn't even try to question the man who was apparently in his own world, but he had read, while browsing his book, that he was the best in the country, and one of the most famous in the world in his own specialty.

"Here, here, try this one."  
Harry was nervous. He didn't know the reaction of his raw magic on further control, and he took the wand like he would have taken a loaded revolver.

"Come on, give it a wave!" Olivander said impatiently, giving the boy an odd look.

Harry obeyed, doing a movement of the hand. A whole row of the shelf shattered with a thud.

"No, definitely not!" Olivander whispered disappointingly before going back mumbling to his shelves.

Harry didn't quite understand what had happened, but he was sure of something: Damien will never put a single foot here, if not for his own safety, at least for every Londoner's.

Olivander made him try a few others wands and Harry felt quite uneasy with the man's difficulties to find him one. He certainly didn't have anything to say about the man himself, but the belief that he was somehow unnatural, even for a wizard, never left him.

"Maybe... No, that can't be... But I wonder..."

The man came back with an emerald green box in his hands. Harry noticed that he had stopped to look at him in the eyes. He didn't like that, he didn't like that at all. Visual confrontation and direct contact were his only way to assure himself that there was no danger. Not that the little old man seemed slightly threatening, but on the first look, nobody could tell that a man like Vernon had the strength to project an eleven-year old boy over a room with a single hit of his foot. And this man was a wizard. Harry put himself immediately on a defense position, but the other man was only taking carefully out another wand with his fingertips. Harry took a deep breath, he would have to be careful not to overreact on magic, or someone might ask questions. Maybe he wasn’t as tranquil as he thought he was about the Dursleys. He was still feeling their presence at the back of his head, waiting for orders.

All of his attention returned suddenly to the wand Olivander was presenting to him. He was hypnotized. Without touching, it, he could feel the magic echos all over his body, he could almost hear it sing. He had forgotten everything and took the wand as if it always belonged to him. No, it was just that it had effectively always belonged to him, just waiting for him to come. A warm golden light bloomed from his bare hands to the wand, and a strong but calm wind made papers fly away across the room while his own magic radiated around him.

When the light reabsorbed into the wand, Harry raised his head to look in Ollivander's eyes. The man couldn't contain a worried expression on his face, but his mind was blank in horror and... curiosity? Harry could only read the bottom of his thoughts, but he felt countless memories and knowledge accumulated among the years starting to move behind them. Harry chose not to insist, he didn't know if a wizard could actually feel him in his head, and it would be a most unwelcoming rudeness if so.

"This is strange, very strange..."

"What is strange, Sir?" Harry asked, his apprehension running back.

"Well, you see, I remember every person that has bought a wand from me. What is strange is that the phoenix that gave his feather for your wand gave another feather,, which happened to be the wand that gave you this scar..."

Harry felt a wave of pride, but it wasn't his. It was distant, hazy, but was there nonetheless. Even if this information gave him more apprehension towards himself, he couldn't help but to smile. Oh, it was a bitter-sweet smile, but it was enough for Olivander to look at him in pure horror. Harry saw it, and went out. He shouldn't have let his emotion take the best of him, certainly not in front of the man, but he couldn't do anything about it right now.

Then, he went towards Knockturn Alley. Of course, he would go there, forbidden knowledge was all his life and interest. It was an advantage in every situation, but even more, it was what some didn't want him to see. And if Harry could do something, it was necessarily what he wasn't supposed to. It felt like an adventure.

The alley was dark, cloudy, like the dark mages felt obligated to make everything around them gloomy and dusty, but most surprisingly poor. It was obvious that it had the purpose to get rid of the ones which didn't have anything to do here, but still. Harry pulled his hood over his head. He went to a small shop to buy two fighting uniforms, he needed to study them later on. Then he was attracted by the biggest shop of the alley. On the pediment, it was inscribed in dirty gold letters: Borgin and Burkes. The shop was... well just like the alley.

Harry wandered among the racks covered in things he didn't know, gems, jewels, flowers, animals, books. He was looking at the books when his eyes were attracted to a magnificent egg. It was about the size of the boy's hand, iridescent, slightly glowing in the dark.

**"Hello, you."**  He said, moving his hand towards the egg. He heard something to knock under the shell and suddenly small cracks formed on its surface. If he had turned around, he would have seen the seller dropping the small orb he had in his hand at the hiss Harry made. The man couldn't see the small boy behind the shelves, but was not reassured by the sound at all.

A small triangular head pointed through the hole of the shell. The creature opened her eyes, bright green eyes, and gave Harry a confused look.

**"There, there, it's ok."**  


Harry took the small snake in his hand, afraid to hurt her. It was a her, for sure. She wasn't longer than his middle finger, and so thin! Harry couldn't help but to feel immediately protective towards her. The baby rose its little head and pulled out her tongue on Harry's skin, then immediately rolled herself in a ball in the hollow of his hand.

**"Waaarm..."**

Harry smiled tenderly. He carefully took the pieces of the shell, put them in a box and went to the seller. Never letting the little snake out of his hand, he came back for the book and put them aside the box on the counter.

"It will cost you a lot, boy; the egg is very rare – almost extinct, and the books are old, especially the ones with the strange runes on them."  


Harry took a moment to understand what he meant, for him the books were in entirely in English.

Now  _that_  was a mystery.

"I'll buy them all. Do you have any document on the snake please?"

"The sna-"

The man's eyes widened as he saw the tiny snake into Harry's hand. He shook his head, then gave him what he asked for, and Harry could almost hear him sigh in relief as he left. Harry sat down on a step and untied the hem of his sleeve wide enough for the little snake to fit in it; he couldn't carry everything with one hand. It was almost 4 pm when he went back to the pub. He didn't have to look for Hagrid as the man could be seen from miles away.

They sat together talking about little things, and if Harry didn't fully enjoy the company of the man, he was touched by his candor- the man seemed truly happy about Harry's new discovery of the wizarding world and his arrival at Hogwarts. Harry was upset that the man kept mentioning Dumbledore, but he quickly understood why: the headmaster had saved the man.

Harry didn't know if it was some sort of twisted debt or a true act of care, but the facts remained, and were the proof of Hagrid's loyalty. Harry always admired loyalty, in any circumstances.

They sat a moment in silence.  
  


"Hagrid. You know the name of the man that gave me... this." Harry said calmly, while running a finger over the scar on his forehead.The other man opened his mouth in surprise. "Don't lie, I know you do. Dumbledore... explained to me most of what happened, but he never named him. I'm sorry to ask, but I need to know, you understand..." Harry whispered accentuating the child's tone of his voice.

The man nodded with a sad face.

"Yeah, yeah I understand. There is something you must understand, Harry, and it's very important. Not all wizards are good. Some turned bad, really bad... Years ago, on of them started to gain powers, gathering followers around him, luring them into dark..."  
  


That was it. Harry was bored. Too much emphasis, not enough facts.Come on, what was he, a ten-year old?

He almost laughed at himself. Yeah, right, he  _was_  eleven.

"... his name was Vol- vol-"

Hagrid took a deep breath. Now, Harry was actually worried, if the name itself of the man could inspire so much fear even years after his death.  
  


"Voldemort," he finally spat out, looking around him to check if nobody had heard him.

Harry said nothing. The name of the man wasn't that important, but Hagrid's reaction ... Maybe all the emphasis was there for a reason.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Thank you all for the support/ hits/ kudos and stuff. I hope you liked it!  
> By the way, there is a portrait of Damien that I did here: http://fav.me/dbdvs11  
> XO  
> ~LadyBraken


	3. Two- Of Brothers and Little Snakes

 

 

 

It was around 7 pm when Harry got back. He almost cried when he opened the door. Damien had decorated all the house with wreaths of all colors, put little notes all over the walls. A sweet music was running, and Harry could smell his favorite food in the oven. His birthday. He had forgotten it, but not Damien. Harry felt his heart burn with emotion. For the first time, someone had remembered his birthday. He put his new things on the stairs, and let the box with the little snake, which had fallen asleep during his way back, on a shelf, and started reading the notes, written in a childish and shivering way.

"You will never be alone."

"You are the best brother."

"You saved my life."

"Happy Birthday, little one!"

It went on and on and when Harry arrived into the kitchen he was actually crying from pure joy. He jumped into his brother's arms, hugging him and jumping at the same time. He didn't even feel his magic slowly expanding around him. It was only when he heard Damien's gasp that he saw what was happening.

All the lights in the electric wreaths had come loose from their threads and were flying all over the room, their bulbs forming the body of butterflies which illuminated each object with a colored glow. The two boys stared in awe, and Harry didn't know what made him happier: the wonderful butterflies, or the reflection of their lights into his brother's happy eyes. His dead eye seemed to be resurrected by the light and recovered the glimmer it never had over the white veil that covered it. It was a fairy tale.

They just stayed like that, sitting on the floor, looking at the butterflies in each other's arms until an alarm rang. Damien stood up and ran for the oven before the food started burning. Harry went to take the baby snake in his hands. The little thing hadn't even woken up, but it stretched in ease when it went back on the warm boy's skin.

"There is someone I want you to meet!"

He came back through the field of butterflies as Damien rose his head from the dish he just took out of the oven. He rose his eyebrow, his face sweetly illuminated by the butterflies slowly floating around, some resting on his back and his shoulders. Harry stopped. Damien looked like an angel. Usually, his face gave him an odd look, with his blind eye and the scar running from his temple to the back of his necks, his black hair only on one side, but now, he had wings of color. It was wonderful. For the first time, Harry's magic had created beauty.

"You're beautiful," the boy whispered.

Damien looked around as he couldn't see who Harry was talking to, before understanding that he was talking to him. He shook his head in disbelief, not even close to understanding how he looked at this instant. It didn't cross his mind that Harry wasn't joking.

 _You are_. Harry said in his head while crossing his eyes.

Damien gave him an odd look before noticing the little snake in Harry's hand. The little creature was looking at the butterfly with wonder, before coming back to the boy's hand.

" **Waaaarm"**  she hissed, cuddling in his palm.

Harry smiled while Damien gave it an, "Awwww." Harry sat on the armchair, keeping the little thing against his chest.

"Well, there are a lot of things we need to talk about. But first, we have to give this little thing a name."

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Damien asked, kneeling next to Harry to have his face at the level of the little silvered-colored snake.

"A girl."

Damien held out a finger to the tiny triangular head so that the snake could smell it with his forked tongue while thinking. The boy was surprisingly literate. He could recite hundreds of poems and legends. He liked them, the stories. The boy once said to Harry that it was the only thing that kept him going before he came. It was like looking at a window knowing you could fly through it, it was like traveling into ideas, into someone else's dreams, feeding oneself with emotion you could never have.

"Ananta." He said with a smile.  


"Why?"  


"It is the snake of the infinite. It represents the eternal beginning, immortality. It is the pillar of the universe... Something small and gigantic, monstrous and stunning..."  
  


 **"What is the one-eye human saying?"**  asked the little snake in an almost indistinguishable hiss.  


"We are trying to give you a name." Harry answered.  
  


Damien blenched at the sound.  
  


"What did you just do?" He asked, trying to mask his surprise.  
  


"Well that's one of the things we need to talk about. It appeared that I can talk to snakes and understand them..." He had said it like it was casual, and Damien didn't even want to ask questions.

Stuff happens.

"Well, what do you think about the name?"  
  


"I like it, but let's ask her."  
  


 **"So, little thing, we were thinking about Ananta. Do you like it?"**   
  


The snake seemed to think about it before acquiescing with energy.  
  


"Did she just nod?" Asked Damien, not believing his senses anymore.  
  


"Told you!"

 

The two boys were so amazed they burst out in laughter. Now that was magical. Damien went back to his dishes as Harry set the table, the little snake comfortably resting in his hood. Once the dinner was served, they started talking. Harry let the baby slither on the table to grab a few bites of meat. He didn't think that she would like cooked meat, but she actually started making little noises of contentment as soon as she tasted it, agitating her little body in all direction, discovering glass, food, metals, wood, water, and everything around her. She always returned quickly into Harry's sleeve to get warm, but couldn't help but to go explore the table which, since she was no bigger than the child's finger, seemed huge.

Harry talked about the books, everything he had seen, the different alleys, the clothes he was wearing, promising to show Damien his own later on; the books, the forbidden arts, the owl (which was now out of her cage, preening its feathers on the top of the fridge), the people, the Malfoys, Hagrid, his legacy, his new fortune. Damien listened to him, drinking his every word, his smile growing larger at every news. Harry didn't talk about Voldemort; he didn't want to ruin his brother's happiness, and it could wait. Dead men cannot hurt anyone.  
  


And only at the end of all of that, he talked about his gift for Damien.

"There is something else. In my heritage, I had money, titles, but it wasn't all." Harry teased. "It seems that we have a manor."

Damien fell of his chair under Ananta's dismayed look.

Damien finally sat back, his chair on the right angle, looking at him with a mix of curiosity, impatience and frustration.

"We will be able to move in tomorrow if we wish to. I don't know what it looks like but it's ours..."

"But it's your heritage..."

"No. It's our home." Harry's voice didn't leave room for contradiction.

This time it was Damien who ran into his arms. The boy kissed his cheek and started dancing all over the living room. It was incredible how graceful he could be when no one was looking at him but Harry: his vaulted back straightened up, his limbs seemed to find their place and moved agilely, his gray eye glimmering, his laugh rising in the air. He could have been a dancer. He was moving along with the butterflies, and soon the little creatures started to follow each of his movements, extending his arms into wings, his spinning into a whirlwind of colors.

" A home! We have a home!" The boy shouted happily on and on.  
  


Harry couldn't help but to join him into his ecstatic joy, jumping on the couch, jumping all over really, laughing, throwing pillows to the other boy. They couldn't really do a pillow fight for obvious reasons but they liked to throw them at each other across the room.

They sat back on their chairs when they finally felt exhausted, but a smile couldn't leave their faces. The butterflies were back to being normal wreaths, but they didn't care.

They went back to their room, not caring about the dishes. Harry put some cotton at the bottom of the snake's box, then a piece of tissue over it to make it like a bed, and he put the box on his nightstand, while Damien was checking on the Dursleys, giving them food and sending them to shower.

" **Ananta wants to sleep with the speaker !"**  moaned the little snake  
  


 **"I know, but you are too small, I'll risk crushing you during my sleep..."**  


**"That's not true! Ananta is strong! Ananta is big!"**  The little serpent showed her little hooks to emphasize his words.

Harry laughed at her antics before threatening to send her to sleep in the kitchen if she didn't stop complaining. Of course, these were empty words, but the little grumbling snake went back into her box.

"It's really strange when you talk like that." Damien said while lying in the bed next to Harry's.  
  


"Yeah I know, but I don't even hear it when I change the language myself so... it's weird for me that it is weird for everyone around..."  
  


"Yeah, well, one thing over the top. We may be a little out of shape to know?"  


"Well, I've heard it somewhere..."  
  


Damien laughed.  
  


Harry laid back and turned off the light.

_______________________________

 

The taxi driver looked at them like they were crazy when they asked him to stop in the middle of nowhere. Well, they could easily agree with him themselves, so they didn't make a comment.  
They walked for a long time before finding the village that was indicated to Harry. It was a small, but beautiful little town. They continued to walk before finally seeing the grid that was circling the manor.

The two boys were wearing similar outfits: black trousers, a shirt with long sleeves, deep green for Harry and blue for Damien, and a cape that reached their waist. It was a bit warm for the summer's weather but they were used to it.

As Harry was told to do, he put his hand on the door's bars and said out loud:

"I, Harry James Potter, heir and Lord of the House Potter, ask for entrance into the manor for myself and for my trusted, Damien Alexander Lewis."

He felt a tingling in his hands as the wards tested his identity, and the door opened. There must have been an invisibility charm because a splendid manor suddenly appeared about twenty feet away. It was more than they could have imagined. After a quick glance at each other, they started running to the door. Onyx flew away to the roof.

The hall was immense - almost the size of the Dursley’s house. In the centre, between two pillars, which were in reality gnarled trees with glowing red leaves, a staircase led to the two wings of the manor. The floor was covered with a carpet of red and gold, delicately woven with motifs representing lions and griffins fighting, as well as sorcerers projecting colored sparks. An Oculus poured its light, which fell in vertical rays, so that when a leaf fell, one could say that it was raining gold.

With pride, Harry clapped his hands and a little house elf popped in before him. Damien didn't even jump in surprise as he was still mesmerized by the view.  
  


The little creature bowed in front of Harry. Greatflow had explained to him what they were, but Harry didn't imagine them like that; so small, with a bit of craziness in their big globular eyes.

"Master Potter! How glad we are that you finally came!"

Harry smiled at Damien's confuse look.

"What is your name?"

"My name is Gladis, Master Potter."

"Well, Gladis, this is Damien. He will stay here with me, and I want you to consider him as a member of my family, am I clear?" Harry said sweetly, amused at the elf's joy.

"Yes, Master Potter!".

"Now, could you give us a tour of the manor?"

"I'd be glad, Master Potter!"

"Please, call me Harry when we are alone."

The elf nodded.

Harry was glad the elf immediately recognized him as the master of the house. Greatflow had explained to him that he wasn't supposed to have access to his rings and properties before his majority, but considering that he was the only heir alive, didn't have a magical place to stay and had every chance to be persecuted by black mages, plus that he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the ministry had made an amendment for him to take some charges earlier. Harry couldn't believe his luck.

" **Where are we, Speaker?"**  asked Ananta, finally getting out of his sleeve. She was scared of the cars and must have fallen asleep in the process of hiding.

"This is our new home, little thing."  
  


 **"Is there stuff to eat?"**   
  


**"Plenty!"** Harry laughed at her priorities. She seemed happy of the answer and went on his neck to look at the place around them.  


**"It smells good and it's warm and there is food. Ananta likes it here!"**

"She said she like the place." Harry answered to Damien's curious look.  


"Who would not?"

Harry nodded happily.

"We may go, Gladis."  
  


"There are twenty bedrooms in the manor,” Gladis said as they went to the right wing of the first floor. “Without counting the king and the queen room, of course."

The boys looked at each other in disbelief.

The corridors were pierced by colored-glass windows representing different creatures that Harry had never even heard about. They passed huge bedrooms, all decorated in the same warm tones, before accessing the king's one. It was - well - royal. A large four-poster bed of red silk and light wood was standing in the centre of the room, and a large desk finely chielled had been put under the large window which faced a luxuriant garden. The room had its own bathroom, even if it was in the XIX century style and technologies. It also had a hidden door that led to the queen's room, which was quite similar except for the bookshelves instead of a desk. The other wing of the first floor were the other parts of the rooms.

The second floor had what was described to them as a tower of astronomy, surrounded with a circular training room. They passed it quite quickly partly because of their excitement, partly because they didn't want to think about fighting between wizards right now.

Then, the house-elf led them on the ground floor. There were two doors on each sides of the stairs: the right one led to the biggest (and only) library that the boys had ever seen; in fact somehow the library was running on the two uppers levels. They had to control their urge to stay inside the room and continued the visit. The other part of the ground floor was entirely occupied by a ball room. Again, it was just... vast. The room had a polished black marble floor whose veins shone as if the floor was alive. Four pillars sprang towards the ceiling in vaults of chiseled stone. Tacking back on the hall, there were two other doors on the right end left wall, the two of them leading to the richest living room they had ever seen.

Damien could not help but take his friend by the waist, and, ignoring his indignant air, he made him waltz to the other end, singing an air that Harry knew only too well. At one point, he stopped protesting and started laughing while twirling all around the room, imagining wizards in their expensive robes and pointed hat, and the murmurs of soft voices gossiping and plotting, and even the aggressively extravagant colors of Dumbledore swirling under the confused looks of the guests. He withdrew his gloves and sent the picture to Damien. They both had to wait a few more minutes to be able to walk without bursting out of laughter right away.

Gladis finally led them to the first basement, where the kitchens, the Potion room and the sanatorium were. She, as her voice indicated it was a she, told them that there was a second basement(a cave actually) but as it hadn't been cleaned for almost twenty years, she preferred not to lead them there, and they had to agree that it was better. There was an herbology garden in the park that had been well preserved, but they were too tired to go check it (and they didn't even know what herbology was for.) They went back to the hall and sat on the stairs, looking around with so much content that they couldn't express it with words.

"Tell me Gladis, how many house elves are working here?"  
  


"You... you mean that there are others?" Damien asked, incredulously.

Harry smiled with knowledge.

"There are ten house elves here, Master Potter. Three at the kitchen, three for cleaning the house and keeping it in order, three for the gardens, and myself at your personal disposal."  


"Thank you, Gladis. Can you call the staff please?"  


"Yes Master Potter!" The little elf said before popping away.  


"You like it don't you?" Damien said with a smirk.  
  


Harry looked at him with a dare.  
  


"When they call you "master"..."

Harry laughed.

"Yes, I think we can claim that I like it. But you are their master too, now, you know."  
Damien shook his head, and Harry squeezed his hand. That was a fucking improvement of lifestyle, but it wasn't what their emotion was about. This place was going to be their home. Not a home they stole, not a home still full of screams, not a place where they had to watch all of their actions. No, here was their sanctuary, and for the first time they allowed themselves to think about it.

Freedom.

The ten little elves popped right back in a ceremonial line in front of the boys. Greatflow had told Harry what he needed to say at first, and the green-eyed boy was glad for it, because he certainly didn't want to pass for a fool in front of his family's servants on the first day.

"Me and this young fellow, whom I want you to consider as my equal, will be moving here in the week. There are only the two of us and we aren't very ceremonial. So, I'll only ask of you a few things. Gladis, you will help us move our things here, into the king and the queen's rooms." He said, suddenly taking the role of the Lord he was. (And Damien had to admit that he was fitting in it very well). "Which are the three elves taking care of the kitchens?"  
  


"Us, My Lord!" said a new elf, quite smaller than the others, two of his kin surrounding him.  


"What is your name?"  
  


"Sweel, Master Potter. And this is Mya and Nan."  
  


"Great. So, as we are only two we won't give you much work from now on. Damien here will decide on the everyday menu, and I want you to tell me if anything is missing. You already have access to a part of my account in order to buy the food. We don't need complicated things unless we have a visitor, and in that particular situation I will myself give you instructions."  
  


"Alright, Master Potter."

"Then, I guess you three are the ones taking care of the gardens?" He asked to the three elves with obvious marks of grass and dirt on their faces. The three of them nodded politely. "Good. I don't know many things about magical gardens, but just know that we both like flowers," he said with a smile, as the three little creature were already looking at each other the head full of ideas to content their masters. "Then the three of the house." Harry said, turning to the last elves, which were luckily cleaner than the others. "As you heard, I need you to prepare the king and queen bedrooms. When this is finished, I'd like you to start refitting the second basement. Now, all of you, I'll give simple rules of life: nobody, except those I clearly specify, is allowed to enter the manor. If someone trespasses I want it to be reported to me immediately. Nothing that happens here can be heard or told outside of these walls. When the second basement is completed, none of you will be allowed to go in there except for Gladis, or if I ask you to, or if there is an extreme emergency. I'll ask you to give me a list of all your names to memorize it, and to note where and when you buy the food we eat. Plus, I have this little lady here that is going to need special treatment. I'll give Gladis a paper with what she needs. Her name is Ananta and she must be treated with all the care you would give to a child of mine," he continued as the little snake rose her head towards the elves. "I will need a map of the house including the secret rooms we didn't see today and the secret passages, and a standing for my owl in my room."

He took a long breath as he had said it all without breathing, not wanting to forget anything. The little elves were looking at each other, almost jumping in excitement.

"Thank you, that will be all," he finished with a wave of his hand.

All the little elves popped out, except for Gladis.

"Gladis, I'll need you to give me information on the nearest village. And by that, I mean if there are wizards, magical incidents, and the reputation of the family in the neighborhood," Damien requested.

"Yes, Master Damien." The little elf said while bowing.  
  


They took a taxi and went back home in content silence, the taxi driver still looking at them like they were out of their mind, especially when he saw the owl on the shoulder of the one-eyed boy and the other petting a little snake.

When they arrived at the Dursley's home it was already late, they didn't notice that they had passed so much time at the manor. And they still had a lot to talk about. Their happiness had led to a strong sense of their new responsibilities and the sad feeling of the fatality that was approaching.

They both sat, exhausted, on their usual armchairs. Now, they had to make a decision about the Dursleys, which were actually cooking behind them. What happened to the young boy- what was his name again? Paul, yes, Paul. It was defense. Maybe a bit violent, maybe he didn't have to die, but he attacked them. And Damien's father was still alive. But the Dursleys weren't attacking them now. They were as obedient and quiet as always. It was a necessity for the safety and comfort of the boys, but it wasn't fair. The more they thought about it, the more they understood it. No, that was murder.

They ate in silence. They didn't need to talk to understand each other's thoughts. Harry wasn't worried about moral; but he was about Damien. The other boy would not be able to bear something like this, as Harry hardly could, and it was his family. Deep down, he knew that his decision was already made, but somehow he still thought about it. Ananta, feeling that the boy was worried, was rubbing her head on the boy's hand, sweetly hissing.

"You will go to the manor tomorrow, and install our stuff," he said simply to his brother. There was no need of further explanations, there was no room for contradiction in his voice. Damien nodded, and they went to bed, leaving for the first time the Dursleys sitting in the living room.

They called Gladis early the next day, after having closed Damien's old house. The little creature explained to them that she could teleport them around if they took her arm. Damien went with her and the stuff they wanted to take with them at the manor, and Harry was finally alone with his "family".

He took a deep breath, but he was actually serene. It was only a last goodbye to a life of weakness and pain. It was only time to move on, and to finally get the revenge he was unconsciously still seeking for.

With nostalgia, he made the Dursley clean the house and eat the food that was left, not much, almost not enough for a meal. Then he sent them to shower, taking theusual well care of closing his mind as he didn't want to see it, then, after putting every furniture in its original place, he started.

He made them lay on the biggest bed, Petunia between her son and her husband. He loosened the control link he had on her and an expression of terror and disgust appeared on her face. She was crying, but he didn't let her talk.

He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her with some sort of sad tenderness, and a bitter-sweet smile on the face.

"You know, I don't hate you."

His voice was soft, almost a whisper. It was the voice parents used to send their children to bed.

"But It doesn't mean that I can forgive you. You are my only family, you know. But you did nothing. You know, for years I used to think that you liked it, but now I understand. It is not a question of taste... you just didn't care enough to do something."

He stopped as Petunia's eyes were wide with silent terror.

"I wonder what she was like... my mother... You never told me much about her. I like to think that, somehow, she wasn't like you. You don't have her eyes. I've found a photograph in the attic... Well I don't have her eyes either, but you... I don't know. I don't know why it ended up like this."

He shook his head to get the thing out of it. He was feeling something at the back of his mind, watching placidly, in silence.

"I wonder if you were sad when she died?"

He looked at her. She had been.

"Oh. Well, that only raises more questions. But I don't have time for questions, now, Petunia. I must move on, you know? It's not against you, it is for me that I'm doing it. You hurt me too much."  
  


He let his stare cover the family for a moment. The closed shutters gave the impression that the night had already come. It reminded him of the night, not that long ago, but which seemed to be in another life.

"You will not hurt anymore. None of you."

He laughed sweetly. Petunia was still staring at him, but now there was some sort of acceptance in her eyes.

"I'm not going to kill you Petunia, for you never hurt me directly. No, your fate will be more... cruel, but fair. These two will not be able to move, as I burned all of their link between the body and the mind. They are not really conscious. I'd like to wake them up, but I can't. I believe I was a little too upset when... well when it happened. I'm just..."

He stopped as his voice was shaking. It wasn't sadness, nor guilt or fear. It was something far more complex.

"I'm going to let you rot, Petunia, just like you did to me. In a few days, they will die. You will see them die, just like you saw me die, bit by bit. Then, it's going to be ugly. And you will see it all. At one point, you will be so hungry that you may consider eating anything, maybe your own tongue, maybe one of the corpses, but you will not be able to move. But don't worry; in a week or two, you will be dead. A relief, isn't it? I didn't even have it, the knowledge of when the pain would stop."

He smiled at her. This time, it was a frank smile, the first and last he ever gave to his aunt.

"Farewell, aunt Petunia." He whispered, closing the door one last time.

He took his time to close the home, cut electricity and water. He had sent letters to work and administration if anyone was to be alarmed by the disappearance. Dudley was sick, something very bad. He had to stay at home. Well, his mother would do everything to stay with him of course, and it wasn't like she had a job. Vernon will send in a week a letter of resignation, pleading that he couldn't be out of the home knowing in what state his son was. And all will be well.  
After one last look at the house, he called Gladis to take him home.

**"Speaker is home! Speaker is home!"**

The little snake jumped on Harry's hands. She had been hissing since the very moment Harry had put a foot back on the manor, but Damien didn't let her go out of her box, fearing she would get lost or someone would step on her accidentally. She was already a bit bigger than she used to be, but it didn't mean much.

Harry took her and she wrapped around his wrist like a small bracelet of scales. _That might be useful to take you at school_ , he thought, surprised that he didn't have the idea earlier. Well, he had had other things to think about. Once again, he was stunned by the beauty of the hall, and he had the feeling that he would need a lot of time to get used to it. He nodded at Damien who was going down the stairs to greet him.

The topic of Harry's family was never mentioned again.

They didn't have much time left before the separation. They went back to Diagon Alley to buy Damien his own owl, considering that he would need independence, it had only one eye just like its new master. Damien called it Ibis.

They settled well in the manor. The canopy that the elf had called the Herbology Garden was actually a piece of art. Damien even recognized some forbidden artists of the XVIIIth century in the constructions, but Harry didn't have this knowledge and only found it beautiful. He decided to renovate the piping and to look out for electricity (even if he didn't know how to install it in the manor yet). Looking at the map the elves had made, they found a little room at the back of the library. It could only be opened by the one with the Potter's ring. Harry made it his office. It only had a desk, empty shelves that could be locked and a filing cabinet.

Damien started working on the muggle laws as Harry concentrated on what he was supposed to learn at school. It appeared that one of Harry's grandparents was actually a lawyer, which gave them all they needed on the subject; actually far more and more complex things than they could dig out in so little time. But they learnt something: witches were obsessed with blood. They had great discussions about it. It was the reason Damien had gone through the cracks: they didn't want to look on muggles. They had the feeling that they had touched a very important subject, therefore they decided to dig more into it. Harry understood that the system of progenitor was what gave him his social importance, but it was also excluding Damien from the political society.

Harry couldn't sleep. He wasn't tormented, he just couldn't. He was nocturnal. He passed his nights with his nose in the books about magical medicine, but he couldn't find anything matching Damien's symptoms. At least, it made him learn the basics, but he was a bit worried that it wasn't something they could resolve on their own.

One week before school, Harry started to try some spells. The firsts try were... well messy. Stuff

started to explode all around, to fly without permission, and the boy had to calm and explain things to the elves for them to take measures. Damien preferred to stay in the library, far from any magical explosion he could avoid. Harry had asked him if he wanted a wand, but the boy wasn't ready yet.

Harry didn't bother; the other boy had seen pretty ugly things with magic, and most of them were his deeds. The boy looked actually better. Unlike Harry, he wasn't unearthly thin anymore, and he had started to take care of himself, of his looks and health, even doing sports. In one of their fitting sessions, he had been desperate about Harry's messy hair which couldn't be capped, he actually tried for hours before giving up.

Two days before going to Hogwarts, everything was set up. Harry had managed to learn a few spells (he was still astonished about the practical uselessness of what he had to learn) and the biggest part of the theory. They had decided that Damien would stay at the manor until Harry would find a way to make him come to Hogwarts in secret. The one-eyed boy preferred to stay alone with the elves, who had become more and more friendly as their masters treated them as human being, than in a crowd full of magical people. He was going to learn himself, and seemed passionate by the way Wizards had cast the muggle, even "muggleborn" out of the society. It was sickening, but as he used to say, the more you know, the more you can change. They decided to correspond by letters, and to send Gladis in case of emergency. Damien was actually working on a way to code their messages, not that it was useful right now, but just in case. Harry's paranoia didn't help to turn him away from this project.

They had started to read wizard newspapers, and to classify them. They were one of the best sources of information on the wizard's way of thinking, but Harry insisted to have the Muggles's big one as well. He didn't see why being a wizard meant being cut from all that wasn't magical, but it was something else that made him insist that much. Muggles had attacked him, which meant that they could attack any wizards. And if Harry knew something, it was that you cannot defend yourself against something you don't know, and you cannot make peace with a total stranger. Not that Harry was in a peaceful mood.

He had decided to take Ananta with him, hiding her in his robes; he just couldn't bear to leave the little snake home with no one to talk to. She was actually sort of excited to see new things, even if she hadn't seen a quarter of the manor yet. She had grown a lot and was now almost the size of Harry's forearm, and her scales were turning into a beautiful silver-grey with beautiful patterns of black and green. But the main change as the little thing grew up was her speed. On some occasions, Harry noticed that he wasn't able to follow her, and it made him proud and confident. Speed was good for attack, of course, but it also meant that if any trouble appeared at Hogwarts she would be able to run away in a blink.

He didn't like leaving Damien alone. He didn't like it at all. It would be the first time that the two of them would be separated since their real encounter. The boy felt lost, and it undermined his excitement for Hogwarts. He knew they would see each other for holidays and about every time they could, but he wasn't sure he could manage without him. To calm him, to comfort him, to look after him, to laugh with him, to share his secrets. But more, it would mean that if Damien had a crisis such as the one after Dumbledore's visit, no one would be home to help him. At the simple idea, Harry felt a ball in his stomach. Secretly, he had asked Gladis to note Damien's symptoms and to give him weekly reports, as he knew his brother wouldn't tell him if something was wrong - considering that he could manage to understand that something was wrong. He also asked the elf to immediately fetch him if Damien started to lose control of his magic, to lose his senses or if the black veins were to be seen on his body. The elf nodded with concern.

Gladis had become more like an odd friend than a real servant. Harry couldn't help it, she was so maternal. Not that he was complaining. He was still of an age to be looked after, and even if it sometimes annoyed him, he was glad.

The day of his departure finally came. Damien prepared him for hours, trying to discipline his hair, checking his luggage. Before they went out, he put a little bag of soft fabric into Harry's Hand.

"Ananta's bed." He said with a smile.

Harry nodded with gratitude. Gladis teleported them to a dark corner not far away from King's Cross. Harry sent her back to the manor with a smile, and they headed for the station, holding each other's hand in a desperate attempt to find courage. As Damien didn't feel well with all the surrounding people, they had to say goodbye in front of the station.  
Harry hugged his brother sweetly, while the other boy took care to don't touch any of his scars.

"I'll write, I promise."

"I know you will." Damien smiled before pushing the other boy away. "Go on, my friend. You have too many things to discover to be sad, today."

And on those words, he went back to the dark corner before calling Gladis.

Harry was alone. He straightened up, his shoulders back, his chin up, and walked into the station.

The ticket sent to him indicated the 9/3/4 route, and he had to wait until a family of redheads screaming in all directions threw themselves against the wall between tracks 9 and 10 to spot the entrance. It made him wonder if the firsts wizards were as paranoid as he was himself.  
On the other side of the wall, a thousand of magical children were running everywhere, hugging their families, waving from the train's windows. Well, he was glad Damien wasn't here to see that. Harry got into the first wagon that had the least occupants, and eventually settled into an empty compartment, enjoying a little quiet. He looked at the window. Somehow, he wished he had someone to waved him goodbye. He heard a little hiss near to his ear.

"But at least you are coming with me, uh, little one?"  
  


**"Is there food at the school?"**

Harry had to bite his lips not to burst out of laughter as the train was leaving the station.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! As always, comments / reviews are appreciated!  
> I went to thanks my beta which is working quite hard to fix my terrible grammar! I hope you enjoyed that chapter.  
> Thanks for all the hits/ kudo/ appreciation in general, it's a real cheer up!  
> See you next time XO  
> ~LadyBraken


	4. Tree- Of expectations and Trains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hy! Sorry for the long wait, but my beta had trouble finishing this chapter. But it's ok, good work can take long, isn't it? I hope you will enjoy this chapter!  
> Oh, and thanks for every kudo and comment! it is really nice :)

Chapter 3:

Harry was watching the scenery scroll through the window, lost in his thoughts, when someone knocked at the door of his carriage.

"May I come in? All the other compartments are full," asked a redhead boy; one of the family Harry had seen earlier. Harry nodded.

The boy sat - well threw himself - on the bench next to Harry.  
"I'm Ron by the way. Ron Weasley."

The boy began to unpack a dreadful sandwich which couldn't have made more noise if he was killing an animal in the room.

"Harry Potter."

Ron looked at him with round eyes.

"So, it is true! Do you have the... the scar...?"

Now Harry was pissed. He glared at him, and feeling his sudden tension, Ananta rose from his lap where she was laying.

** "Is there a problem, speaker?" She hissed worriedly. **

Harry was about to pat her little head when the red-haired boy suddenly backed away with a little pitiful cry, struck his head against the back of the bench, and almost kicked the little snake, if Harry hadn't the reflex to protect his familiar with his magic.

** "How dare you?" **  Said Harry with a dangerous tone while rising, not even noticing that he had switch language in his anger. Ananta had wrapped around his neck, and her triangular head raised, she pointed her hooks toward the boy who was now crawling on the ground in a desperate attempt to get out.  
  
  


Harry closed his eyes. It was going to be far more difficult than he had thought at first. Taking back control of himself, he stood still, looking at the boy who looked like he had the fear of his life, his dull blue eyes going from Harry to the snake.

He heard steps on the train's corridor and Draco appeared at the compartment's door.

"Hey, Harry... is everything OK? What are you doing on the floor, Weasley?" He looked at the two boys in turn, clearly hostile towards Ron.

"He almost kicked my snake," Harry explained, his voice calm again. Damien would have been proud of his control.

Draco's eyes narrowed at the sight of the little snake. He was himself disturbed by the presence of an aggressive snake, but it wasn't the point.. The point was that this blood-traitor had dared to touch Harry's belongings, and that Harry could be frightening as hell.

He did not have time to do anything as the Weasley boy fled precipitately from the compartment, almost knocking himself out on the corridor's wall.  
  
  


"I may have let myself be carried away." Harry said with a smile.

"Don't worry about him, he is stupid anyway, just like his whole family. You can recognize them by..." He showed his hair with his hand, a disgusted look on his face.  
Harry nodded.

"I wasn't worried about him. It’s just that I really don't like it when someone touches Ananta."

"Ananta, it's the snake, right?" Draco asked while sitting in front of him.  
It was funny to see how he changed as soon as his father was away. One could almost not see the haughty expression on his face anymore – almost.  
  
  


"Yeah. She's a girl by the way."

Draco talked for a very long time, about Hogwarts, how he would be in Slytherin as all of his family had been there, about how powerful his father was at the Ministry. Harry nodded politely, adding a few words when needed, but it was clear that Draco didn't need him to talk. The boy wanted to impress him, and it wasn't quite a bad intention. You only try to impress what you respect, but Harry wondered if the boy respected him, or The-Boy-Who-Lived. Of course, the question would have been easier to answer with his father.

Then, Draco went back to his own compartment, leaving Harry alone with the little snake.

" ** Non speakers talk a lot!"  ** Ananta pointed out with a bit of scorn in her voice.  
It cheered Harry.

** "Yes, but they don't have a lot to say unfortunately," **  he answered with a smirk.

He thought about the possibility to ask Damien to look after information on the Weasley and Malfoy families when someone knocked again at the door.  
  
  


Harry expected Draco to come back; the boy had some brain hidden in there and Harry didn't dislike him, but it wasn't him. It was a girl of his age, with big brown eyes and a mane of chestnut hair reaching her shoulders.

"Excuse me, but have you seen a frog? A boy named Neville lost it."

"No, sorry, and I can assure you that no animal passed this compartment, so you may stick to the part between yours and mine."  
  
  


"How do you know that?" She asked. Her voice was surprisingly annoying.

"She would have noticed." Harry answered, pointing the little snake from the head.  
He didn't want to hide the snake from the students, the Weasley boy was a proof of their stupidity when surprised. However, he'd learned a spell to hide her if a teacher went to ask a question. And she was still small enough to hide on him.

The girl's eyes narrowed, but not in fear. Curiosity. She sat next to Harry, not even asking, to look closer at the little snake.  
  
  


"I've never seen one like that. I mean... even in my books. What is it?"

Oh, a bookworm. Even if Harry didn't like how close she was from him, the girl's curiosity and lack of fear pleased him.  
  
  


"She's a girl." He answered in a strange teaching voice. "And she's unique. She had... evolved from her original race, that's why you don't recognize it. But Let's see if you can guess..."

The girl gave if a defiant look and went back to her observations. She seemed actually upset that she wasn't able to find it, and had to keet her distance from the snake, when they heard a croaking in the corridor.

"You should run after that thing." Harry said, amused.She frowned in frustration but left.

Harry shook his head. He had never talked to so many people of his age and he was kind of surprised how different they were from him, or even Damien. He knew that even with his size he looked older, but he hadn't realized how much.

Draco went back only to tell him that they were close to the school and it was time to put on his uniform.  
  
  


When he got out of the wagon he was soon joined by Malfoy, who was now surrounded by two rather similar boys, who looked to have the corpulence and intelligence of Dudley at his best time.

Harry shook his head. Here too...

"First year, first year! This way please!"

Well that was a voice that Harry could recognize a mile away. Hagrid was standing on the platform, waving his enormous hand. He made a sign of the head towards Harry and led the first years towards barques. Harry sat in the front of it, Draco and another boy he didn't know behind him. The cold nocturnal wind cleared his mind, and he needed to because he couldn't help but to feel excited about everything.

His heart just stopped when he saw the castle. It was grandiose. The orange light in the windows were shining like a lighthouse in the night and emphasized the immensity of the buildings. Towers skyrocketed towards the sky and the imposing structure was reflected in the undulating water of the lake, giving the children the impression that they were flying over the castle.

All of them stood gaping, except for Harry and his control, but his mind was in the same state. When Draco turned toward Harry to share a look of connivance, all he saw was an aristocrat. In the contrasted lights, his face like a porcelain's mask, his eyes resting on the castle like he owned the place.  
  
  


_Welcome to our home_ . Harry heard. He couldn't help but to smile at that.

When they got out of the boats, Harry checked that Ananta was well-hidden and walked towards the stairs of stone with the others. He stayed near to Draco but even the blonde couldn't speak.

A witch was standing at the top of the stairs, in a large green dress. She looked old, of distinguished severity, and wore a pointed hat matching her dress.  
  
  


"Welcome, welcome. Stay in line. My name is Professor McGonagall Now, before you enter the hall, you will be distributed in one of the four houses. The houses are: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. In order to do that..."

She was cut short by a "Trevor!" thrown by a young boy who rushed to catch the toad that was - without anyone noticing how - at the feet of McGonagall. The lady gave him a blank look before the boy retreated back in the ranks, mumbling a pitiful sorry.

"... In order to do that, the hat of Hogwarts will be placed on your head, when you are called. Now, follow me, please."  
  
  


And on these words, she turned on her heels and opened the doors of th Great Hall. There were candles in the air, illuminating what Harry had learned to be a false sky (as the bookworm girl was explaining behind him), and in front of them, the head table, slightly overhanging the rest. All the other students turned towards the newbies.

Harry liked it. Not to be watched, but the place, the feeling. It was like he had always belonged here. And he missed Damien, he wanted to show him all. But of course, he put these ideas and feeling behind his usual stoic face, and still walked in the new world like an emperor. It wasn't pride, he wasn't fond of himself, it was just his natural way to behave in public. And it worked, as several students couldn't look away.

They all stood in front of the head table, a few feet away from a single chair that was waiting for them. A brown shapeless hat was placed on it.  
  
  


Harry wasn't on the front line of the students, it allowed him to observe for a moment as the first children were called. There weren't many students. More than he had ever seen, but how many less than what he had read in the old books on Hogwarts! To see how every table was cheering each new entrant, the disparities between them was very clear, in fact, it could be felt.

Looking at the head table, Harry nodded toward Quirrell, and the other returned his salute. Just like at the pub, Harry felt his scar warming. Next to Quirrell, a strange man, dressed all in black was staring at him. Harry felt something pushing at the back of his mind, but it wasn't the familiar presence of the voice. It was an intruder. Harry pushed violently back, keeping eye contact with the man, whose nose had begun to bleed. Without even looking, Quirrell gave him a tissue.  
  
  


"Who is the man next to the professor Quirrell?" Harry asked Draco discreetly.

"Him? Its Sev- the professor Snape. He is teaching potions, and is also my godfather. You'll see, he is so cool!"  
  
  


Harry returned a bright smile to Draco. So, the boy had someone else than his father to impress at school.

While the Weasley boy was called and sent to Gryffindor, Harry took his time to observe the other teachers. Dumbledore was still looking like a Santa on drugs, for he was always far too joyful, but it made Harry laugh more than anything. He was wearing a bright purple robe with brown patterns. Harry didn't like the man, but he certainly had to admit that he was flamboyant. His presence could be felt in all the room, and he looked at every child like he was his own grandson or granddaughter. Harry thought that if he hadn't found out how the man had stolen his money, and even with the voice's warning, he would have been tempted to trust the man. But, if there was one thing he couldn't forgive, it was when someone touched his family, and by extension his family's belongings. What a shame, really.  
  
  


Draco was called and he was sent to Slytherin without even having the time to touch his head. Of course, the boy was delighted.

"Harry Potter."  
The hall went silent.

So, it was the moment. The arrival of The-Boy-Who-Lived. They all expected something, different things of course, but nonetheless.  
  
  


He sat graciously on the chair, but couldn't repress a shiver as the hat touched his head. It was a hat, but a talking hat, and Harry's body seemed to consider it as a person. Of course, nobody noticed it, except maybe Dumbledore, which had a plain view on his tensed back. For the others, a prince had just sat on his throne.  
  
  


Harry was anxious of what the hat could see in his mind, but he had read that it couldn't talk about it to anyone but himself. And somehow, he knew that the voice would protect the problematic memories, if needed.

"I see a lot of potential... You could be in every house, but where to put you... yes you could be great... a house could help you on the way to greatness..." The hat whispered to Harry's ear.

"SLYTHERIN!" It screamed without letting to Harry the time to respond.  
The hall went __ _ completely _  silent.

Harry could almost hear Dumbledore gasp in his back. As he rose from his chair, he heard a cheering of the Slytherin's table, while the others stood silent. Harry hissed to Ananta for her not to rise her head at the noise, and went to the Slytherin table with a smirk. He sat next to Draco, shook a few hands, all thinking the same, "It's Harry Potter and he's in my house!". He was overfilled with pride, and this time it was his own. He had broken expectations, and that on the very first day of his arrival. He could almost hear Damien laugh at the situation, when he would hear about it.

He gave a surprised look to the girl he had met on the train when he noticed she was at Gryffindor; he would have seen her at Ravenclaw obviously. But he didn't think about it too much as the headmaster rose from his chair. The ceremony was over.

Dumbledore opened his arms like he wanted to hug each student and to give them cookies. Harry chuckled at the image.

"Welcome to Hogwarts! And especially welcome to our new students! Before we start the festivities, Mr Filch, our caretaker, asked me to remind you that the Forbidden forest is well named, forbidden, and that the third floor is out of reach for anyone who doesn't want to suffer a painful death. Now, let the feast... begin!"  
  
  


And as he rose his arms a second time, all sorts of food appeared on the different tables. But Harry barely noticed it, the only thing he had in mind was: was the man totally crazy? Death threats inside a school? Really? He could understand the forest, it was outside, and probably a place where they kept different creatures, but the third floor? And nobody else seemed to notice, as they were too concentrated on the food and the excitement of the first day and new meetings.  
Harry shook his head in disbelief.

Draco soon required his attention, and introduced him to the two big boys that were with him earlier: Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Harry didn't understand why Draco kept them so close, but as he understood they were pure blood, it must have a family interest under it somehow. He shook the hand of Daphne Greengrass, a pretty girl with long black hair and an obvious shy temper, Theodore Nott and finally Blaise Zabini. All pure blood. Harry started to understand the link between them all. He would have to send note to Damien on what he should learn about them, because obviously these kids were from powerful families.

"Happy to be at Slytherin?" Blaise asked while eating "You created quite a surprise."  
The boy was judging him, obviously, and Harry decided to give it a try.

The other barely heard a hiss and a little snake got out of Harry's sleeve, looking around her before Harry indicated his own plate, where he had kept a piece of meat. They all looked at him with surprise, respect and maybe a bit of fear, but none had the stupid reflex of the Weasley boy.  
"It wasn't quite a surprise for me." harry said, his voice soft as silk.

It was a lie, of course. Harry was by blood the heir of Gryffindor, and it was actually one of the few things Harry was truly proud about, but one does not choose his mind. Well, if Gryffindor and Slytherin succeeded to build a school together, Harry could succeed to honour both of them. Or none. Harry didn't want his behaviour to be directed by the past, apparently unlike the vast majority of witches.

" ** There is a lot a people, here!" **  Said the little snake worriedly.  
Harry nodded but didn't answer. He remembered quite well the fear that the snake's language could spread, and if he knew it was going to be an advantage with the Slytherins, he didn't want everyone to know what he was able to do, especially not Dumbledore. Knowledge is power and Harry couldn't afford anyone to have power on him.

When the feast was over, the prefects led them to the Slytherin's common room, which happened to be in the dungeon, under the black lake they had crossed earlier. The place was dark, only illuminated by green orbs. All the decorations was obviously made in silver, dark and green. The room had a fireplace, a few tables of dark wood, armchairs, some chessboard and desks covered by papers and flasks that contained God knew what. Harry liked the place, not that it was welcoming. But the shadows could give the impression of loneliness even with people around, and the place was perfect for Ananta. He was afraid he would have to buy a vivarium in summer, but here there was no need. Still, the place was cold.

_ A place for the darkest minds... _  Harry couldn't help to think.  
Well, it was his place indeed.

The prefects indicated the dormitories, and Harry chose to wait for all the others to stop running everywhere before going tothe place. This, on the other hand, might become a problem. Harry didn't sleep a lot, but when he did, it surely wasn't pretty. He couldn't let the others see him having nightmares, and he would have to find a solution quickly. When he climbed the stairs leading to the dormitories, all the other boys had already chosen their bed.

"Harry!" Draco waved his hand and showed him a bed not far away from his own. "I kept this one for you."

Harry gave him a bright smile. He actually would have been touched by Draco's attention if he hadn't caught him giving a superior look to one of the other boys. This one was definitely running after fame. Harry's bed was near one of the windows, against the right wall of the dormitories, and well hidden from the door.  
  
  


Their things had been brought to the room, and Harry started to fix his corner of the room. He had locked his books in a chest that he put under the bed, and Ananta's box on his nightstand. With a smile, he placed Damien's gift in it and allowed the little snake to rest in there. They still had an hour before having to head back downstairs to get their timetables. He took his quill and some paper and started writing about his day for Damien, but then he decided to write it just before sending it, to avoid...interference.

They finally returned to the common room. All the first years were here, waiting and whispering. Harry found himself a quiet place in one of the armchairs at the corner of the room, and was soon joined by Draco and Blaise who stood beside him.

Snape opened one of the doors, threw the timetables on the nearest surface, and stopped to let his suspicious black glinting eyes stare at each student like he was going to take their soul if they dared take a breath. They were all tense.

Harry felt a mix between disgust and amusement toward the man. The effect was ridiculous, and he had to confess that he did look like a giant bat, but it worked, and the room went silent in a blink.

"I am Severus Snape, the Head of Slytherin. As you can see if you have two brain cells connected with each other, these are your timetables. It appears that the first class is potions, so we will have the pleasure to see each other tomorrow morning, and it is obvious that every late student will be punished accordingly," Snape said.

He glowered at everybody and left as dramatically as he had entered.  
  
  


Draco was about to throw himself on the timetables like the other children when Harry stopped him with a gesture of the hand.

"Look." he said while observing his new comrades. Draco and Blaise gave him an odd look before understanding what he meant. All the first years were running for their paper, walking on each other’s feet, scrambling around the table. They looked like animals. Harry saw that Daphne had stayed behind, not far from them but without actually reaching their group, and he motioned for her to approach.

_ " _ You’re not going to take your schedule?" she asked in a tiny voice.

_ " _ We are waiting for the rush to end," Blaise answered. He had a deep, warm voice, quite calming.

She nodded, and Harry cast an  _accio_ to the closest chair for her to sit next to the boys. They looked at him in awe, once again. __  
  
  


_ " _ How do you know how to do that?" asked Malfoy, admiration in the eyes, as Daphne was quietly sitting and thanking Harry with a move of her head. __  
  
  


_ " _ I trained this summer, thanks to the new books I found in my family's manor. But I only know one or two spells, the most useful for the beginners." __  
  
  


Blaise nodded quietly, apparently impressed. Harry thought that he was going to like that boy. He was calm, quiet, and Harry was pretty sure he had a very well-functioning mind. Harry took note to look after him too; even if he knew that in the end he would have to make files about pretty much everybody.

Crab and Goyle jostled among the other children to reach the little group, their timetables in hand. It was quite incredible to see them move in a crowd, or more to see the crowd moving away from them.

They waved goodnight and went up, pushing each other in the stairs. __  
Draco gave Harry a knowing look, to which Harry answered by a raised eyebrow. He didn't have to go into the boy's head to understand his despair of the two giants. __  
  
  


_ " _ Do you still have that little snake with you?"

Daphne asked with her usual little voice, but Harry could see her black eyes glimmering with curiosity. __  
  
  


The common room was now almost empty; a few first year were talking at the other end of the room. He took the time to look in her eyes, and was surprised by what he found. She was a fierce lady, that one, and smart on the top of that. Plus, she was curious. It could be good to have her on his side. It wasn't like he could hide for a long time the fact that he was talking to his snake to people that lived with him anyway. And a demonstration of trust always leaded for people to more faith.

He smiled at her.

** _"_ ** ** Get out, little one. There are people I want to show you." ** _  
_ The three others almost jumped in surprise.

_ " _ You’re a Parselmouth!" exclaimed Draco, whispering.

They each approached to be able to see the serpent, and Draco and Blaise went to fetch two armchairs. They had formed a circle without even realizing it; creating some kind of complicity. None of them dared touch the snake, even after Harry had assured them that she would not bite. The boys finally said goodnight to Daphne and went to their own dormitories, where everyone was already sleeping.

Harry waited and when he was sure everyone was sleeping, he went back downstairs to write his letter, and finally took his potion's book to study, Ananta peacefully sleeping on his neck.

At the first hours of the morning, he went to shower, put his uniform and headed to the hall for breakfast. He sent Onyx with his letter and enjoyed the deserted room while he could, reading a treaty of medicine that he had bought with him. The silent hall spread an atmosphere of calm and peace that no one could have imagined, and that he was sure only a few had the possibility to truly enjoy it. Ananta was eating a piece of meat and playing around the plate, but he let her, no one was here to see her. About an hour later, he saw a mop of brown hair at the Gryffindor’s table. She gave his snake a frustrated look that made Harry smirk. She was still searching. __  
  
  


Of course, he was the first one to arrive in the potion's lesson. The room was the image of its owner, and Harry took the opportunity to close his eyes. __  
  
  


Draco arrived a bit later, obviously stressed about having lessons with his godfather; one could see it by the arrogant smirk on his face. It was incredible how he looked like his father with that expression. He sat between Crabbe and Goyle after waving Harry a hello. Harry did wonder what a witty boy like Draco could find in these gorillas; it was not like he needed physical protection as far as he knew.

Blaise and Daphne finally sat at each of his sides and they waited for Snape to arrive

Snape arrived, slamming the door as usual. Harry wondered what the castle's doors had done to the man to deserve such a treatment. __  
  
  


_ " _ I don't expect many of you to be gifted in the precise and delicate art of potions." He said raising his crooked nose in dare, his arms crossed on his chest. However, for the selected few, I can teach you how to put death in a bottle..." Once again he looked at the class. This man looked like he hated children. Harry saw Draco get tensed and a fake-proud grin appeared on his face.

_ " _ Harry Potter, our new celebrity..." grunted Snape. __  
  
  


Harry didn't blink. He knew it was some kind of revenge for what happened at the ceremony. He rose his most convincing innocent eyes at the teacher. __  
  
  


_ " _ What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_ " _ I believe it is a Draught of the Living Death's potion, Sir," he said, voluntarily ignoring the trains girl's hand that she had rose so quickly that she almost left her seat in the process.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Daphne and Blaise smirk. Of course, he knew the answer, he had read the entire book during the night. But it didn't change the vileness of the question: it was well-known at least among the adults that Harry had been raised by muggles and therefore should have some lack of knowledge. Luckily for him, he had anticipated that, but Snape didn't know it, which meant that he was trying to trick him. The only question was: what for? __  
  
  


Snape narrowed his eyes and turned back to fetch his book like nothing had happened. Harry took the time to note the question: it was strangely precise for a casual question.

Somewhere at the back of his head he could almost hear someone laugh. _  
_ When they left the class, Blaise burst out laughing.

_ " _ Did you see his face? I think you broke his momentum. He’s known for taking a punchbag every year, but they are Gryffindor’s, usually." __  
  
  


Harry nodded. Well, at least everyone was aware that the man what an asshole. Gifted, obviously, but still. __  
  
  


_ " _ I wondered why he tried to do this on you..." Daphne whispered.

It was a goddamn good question. Harry shrugged. _  
" _ Don't bother, Daphne. He failed anyway."

As they were leading toward the next lesson, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry discreetly made a mocking sign to the girl of the train, pointing to the tail of the little snake that was slightly above his collar. She pouted and accelerated, followed closely by Neville.

Harry wondered about the very title of the lesson. Wouldn't be more useful to teach defence against magic globally? And how come people that didn't have a clue on what and how to practice dark arts would be able to fully understand how to defend themselves against them?

However, he was sort of excited about these lessons. Quirrell was a mystery, and Harry couldn't decide if his apparent weakness was fake. But, and it was the most important, he was the only external link Harry had with the red-eyes man. He still needed to find out who this one was, but he didn't have the time to look upon famous figures, as he preferred to train his abilities and his control on his magic. He didn't want to accidentally blow up a classroom. He wondered what Damien was doing right now. He was feeling an empty space at his side, and it was disturbing.

Ha sat next to Neville, as the other Slytherins had taken a full line. Daphne gave him a sorry look, but he only slightly raised an eyebrow. __  
  
  


When he noticed who was sitting next to him, Neville got immediately tensed. Harry didn't understand this reaction, he had never talked to the boy before, until he saw Neville send a panicked look to the Weasley boy. So, this one was a gossip, huh? It was new expectations, for him to be evil and terrible.

And as usual, Harry hated expectations. _  
_ He held out his hand to the other boy, who, after a horrified grimace, squeezedit. His hand was flabby and his hands were moist.

_ Ron said he almost killed him, he may still have the snake with him! Does he want to kill me now? His eyes are really scary! But I did nothing wrong! And he is always with these Slytherins, the death eater's children... _

Breaking the contact, Harry smiled to him.  
"I guess you know who I am." He said softly. "You shouldn't trust everything Ron said, the boy seems to have a running imagination. Don't worry, Neville, I'm not going to hurt you."

He had said it with a firm but calming voice and surprise appeared on Neville's round face.  
"Ho-how do you know my name?"

"Well it is hard to forget the name of the boy who’s toad was running all over the train."

Neville blushed and gave a little laugh. That was better. He saw the Weasley boy staring at him with furious eyes, but he didn't bother. The boy had almost hurt Ananta, and that wasn't something Harry could forgive. And the boy didn't have any idea of what he had done with his stupid rumours.  
Well, they were partly true, but those were only details.

Harry felt his scar warming before Quirrell entered into the classroom. The professor presented himself, his subject,in his usual shuttering, and the class was over. Harry was disappointed.

"Potter!" He heard Quirrell calling behind him.  
Harry went back to the professor's desk, and Quirrell handed him a strange black book.

"It might be useful to you. Take a good care of it, it's the only one I have."  
His voice wasn't shuttering anymore.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said before joining the others.

"What did he want?" asked Draco when they were finally reunited.

"He gave me a book on DADA, for me to get ahead."  
  
  


"But why would he do that?"

The other stopped and gave him an obvious look, and it took at least ten seconds for the blond to realize.

_ My, my,  _ Harry thought,  _ Crabbe and Goyle have a bad influence on him. _

The lessons in Magical history was boring, mostly because the teacher was a ghost, but it made Harry take consciousness of something: the past of magic was also its present. It wasn't like in the muggle's world, a memory, a knowledge, no, it was effective.

It was all they had for the day, so the little group went back into the dungeons. They sat at the same place as the last evening. Draco and Blaise started to argue on quidditch teams (Harry supposed it was some sort of magical sport), under the empty look of Crabbe and Goyle. Daphne was playing chess with another girl, and Harry started reading the book Quirrell had given him. It was a spell book, but far more advanced than what he was supposed to learn, and Harry was pretty sure that at least half of them were considered as black magic. So, Harry had to find a place to sleep alone, and a place to practice discreetly. That was going to be difficult. He took note for himself to look for a map of the castle the next day. He wasn't supposed to be out of his bed at night, but he hadn't crossed anybody early in the morning. He guessed that the surveillance was assured by the prefects, which meant teenagers who were more probably trying to seduce someone than doing their tasks.  
  
  


When they went to dinner, Harry noticed that Neville and the train girl saluted him discreetly.

This was good news, because he knew he would need more than only Slytherin to do whatever he would need later. And nobody could suspect him having accountancy with Gryffindor’s.

He ate in silence. Draco as usual was leading the conversation, talking about his father. It wasn't that anybody was really listening, but nobody had the heart to stop him, he was just so enthusiastic.

Harry left the others while they were returning to the dungeons. He hid himself in an empty classroom and waited for the school to fall asleep. The idea of a map of the castle wasn't bad, but it would be better if he did it himself. He was pretty sure that none of the secret passages were on those maps. And by looking onto things himself, he could find some stuff about the different prefects and professors. It wasn't like he was going to sleep anyway.

Unfortunately, he didn't meet anyone to spy on, except for Filch of course, but the man was blind or stupid for he didn't see him, and no room was safe enough for him to sleep in a complete night. At least, he had the chance to show Ananta places to hide just in case, even if she protested that she was "very big" and "would eat anyone that tried to bother her dear speaker". He finally headed back to the common room, took his shower, put his new books in his bag, and sat in his corner of the room, wrapping himself in the shadows, waiting to have the legal right to go eat his breakfast.

The first lesson of the next day was charms and Harry was tense. He was far beyond what was expected from a first year, but if he knew he could control his magic when he was the only one doing it, he wasn't sure of his reflexes near a magical explosion of some sort. He laughed internally when he understood that his apprehension was coming from the fact of having Damien near him every day until now. He didn't fear for himself.

Flitwick started his first class by teaching them the levitation charm, but they actually didn't have to cast anything. Once again, Harry didn't understand why things were so slow.

All the teachers seemed to give him a look every time he entered in a class, but Harry chose to ignore them with a polite smile. At least none of them hated him for no real reasons like Snape did.

He was good. He knew he was. Draco followed him almost everywhere, with Daphne and Blaise, and eventually Crabbe and Goyle. It was obvious to see who was the leader of the group, but Harry didn't want only leadership.  
  
  


He needed loyalty.

* * *

The third night he hid in a deserted classroom and slept. Ananta was guarding in case anybody entered but they were no incident. He wished he was home.  
  
  


It was on the third early breakfast that the train girl actually came towards him. The hall was empty as usual.

"She is feeding on your magic." She said in a high preachy tone. "That's why she doesn't look like any other snake."

And without another word, she turned back and went out.  
  
  


Harry was impressed. She was smart, but he had already guessed that as she always answered every professor's question, but she was also obstinate and obviously brave, as she came to talk to him despite the rumours he knew was running around Gryffindor.  
He decided to wait for the others this time.

When Draco saw Harry, he sat next to him. The boy had noticed that Harry's bed was never unmade, and that he never came to the dormitories with the others, but he didn't ask questions.

Harry self-healing abilities allowed him to avoid having dark circles around his eyes, but his control wasn't as good as it should be, and he started to feel the after-effects.  
  
  


He was talking with Blaise about the realities between Snape and Quirrell when the mail arrived. It was truly fun to see all the little packets fall more or less into the student's food.

He opened Damien's letter immediately.

 __Dear Brother,  
Witches are witches, and I think that sums up all your first day. I hope all of them aren't as mad as they seem to be, but that would explain a lot. You're a Slytherin, uh? Well, I can't say that it is really a surprise, but I would give anything to see A. D's face when it happened. Well, now you are a little snake, ain't you?  
  
  


__ I've done researches on the Weasley boy, as (I don't know why really) I thought you would want to have things on him. He is from a "blood traitor" family, which means a pure blood family that had fallen in disgrace, probably poor and strangely close to the muggles. Apparently, he has a lot of brothers still in Hogwarts: Fred and George (twins), and Percy. The last one is in the ministry's favour, unlike the rest of his family apparently (I still haven't found why exactly). But there is something more useful: they hate the Malfoys for generations. It explains Draco's reaction in the train. I've opened a file about them both in your office.  
  
  


_ I think I would like to meet the girl-with-no-name. It's a bit frustrating to wander in the big library alone. _

_ I must tell you that I've found something rather strange about the pure blood families. As you asked I started to look into them, but it is your comment on the number of witches in Hogwarts that made me think: they may have a problem at birth, but I'll look into that later.  
The manor is running well, and Gladis is perfect (did you asked her to look after me? Because I'm starting to worry I have a second shadow with globular eyes, it's rather terrifying). _

_ Apparently, there aren't any witches in the village downhill, but the elves told me things that could be incidents. I'll look into this as well (I think I'm working more that you do!). _

__ For your sleeping problem: have you think about looking into the different legends about Hogwarts? It may lead you to a secret room or something.  
  
  


_ Anyway, all is fine. I hope you will fit well in the school, and please, be a good boy for me. Salute Ananta and tell her the same thing (Do I sound like an old mother? Because I think I do). _

_ I miss you, _

_ D. _

_ PS: we should find a code for the names in our letters, in case someone is reading over your shoulder. I wouldn't want you to be in trouble! _

Harry had smiled during all the time he had read the letter. I really missed his brother, and he could almost hear him through the letter. He hadn't noticed that his part of the table had gonesilent.  
It was the first time they saw a real smile on his face.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Et voilà! I hope you enjoy this Prologue. There's not supposed to be any mistakes, but English is my second language, so sorry of there is!  
> Next chapter will be up soon!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Un Ordre Nouveau](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299989) by [LadyBraken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBraken/pseuds/LadyBraken)




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